


Life Finds a Way

by SpicyCheese



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/F, M/M, Most of the Jurassic Park cannon deaths apply to their respective POI characters, Multi, sporadic humor, violence warning for when dinosaurs eat people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 22:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyCheese/pseuds/SpicyCheese
Summary: After several accidents leave investors skeptical, founders Nathan and Harold invite several experts to their new park, in hopes of garnering positive testimonials prior to public opening. Chaos sets in however, when the park’s attractions turn on them and suddenly the weekend’s itinerary shifts from amusement to survival.ORJurassic Park AU, in which it follows the plot of the movie fairly closely but with everyone’s favorite POI characters instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me start by thanking Aragarna, for her absolutely STUNNING art as well as her support as I complained and writhed about in the agony than naturally results from such a lengthy-writing project :) I'd also like to thank Hufflepufflovespizza for being very encouraging and generally awesome. Lastly, thanks to my wife, Seasaltandsawdust, for absolutely eviscerating this fic with her excellent beta-ing, for her tireless support, and the way she continually pushes me (both gently and not so gently) to be the best writer I can be (She's going to kill me for all the commas I put in that sentence alone, but Shhhh!) :) 
> 
> Hope you all like the fic- let's start off with Aragarna's amazing art though!!! Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

*_*_*_*_*

 

_ [Sector 1, Isla Nublar, 340 miles off west coast of Costa Rica] _

 

_ How did she end up here? _

Joss wipes her brow on the sleeve of her shirt as the forklift carrying the giant metal crate beeps slowly into position, and wonders exactly that. 

Army interrogator turned civil contractor, things took a hard left turn after completing a job in Tanzania. She fell in love with the country, with Africa, and that’s where IFT found her: Head of Field Rangers for the Kuangalia Wildlife Reserve, patrolling the grounds in a truck that should have been decommissioned years ago. 

She had no intentions of ever leaving Africa, was sure there was nothing this man Ingram could offer that would change her mind.

_ She was wrong.  _

The deafening clang of the crate docking against the gate focuses thoughts back on the present. 

“Loading team, step away,” she orders and a dozen workers follow the command. This is the hard part now. The part that makes the hair on the back of her neck raise. 

The gun is heavy in her hands. It packs enough electricity to take down a Rhino… but this isn’t a rhino. This cannot be compared to any animal Joss or anyone else has ever worked with. The size, the sheer scale of them, nevermind the frightening level of intelligence of this variety particular…

By the time she realized just how impossible the task Ingram and his colleague had hired her to do was, she was too far in to just turn away. She had to stay. People were going to get killed if she didn’t.

Initially she thought Ingram’s partner felt similarly. The man appeared reticent, careful, and as concerned about safety as she was. As time went on though he continued to ignore what was painfully clear to her immediately: this was a fool’s errand. Actions speak louder than words, and by keeping this project going it was clear that both he and Ingram remained convinced they could find a way to control this, to manage it. 

What she knows though is that there are some forces of nature that simply cannot be stopped. In her eyes, the two men have opened Pandora’s box and the monsters that emerged are nightmares beyond all of them.

The worst of said monsters lurks suspiciously quiet inside the reinforced metal crate in front of her, and she tightens her grip on the rifle further. Eight months studying these creatures and what she can say for sure is that they’re always thinking. They’re always planning, working on something. If it’s not moving, it’s on purpose. 

“Raise the gate!”

Her team complies, metal gate slowly cranking open, inch by inch.

Suddenly, from inside the crate, the monster shrieks (that’s the only word Joss can put to it) and with lighting speed sprints from the box into the enclosure- only to turn and slam the box from the other side. 

The impact offsets the crate, creating a gap, and causes the worker above to topple off. He doesn’t even hit the ground. The monster’s arms snatch him through the gap, wrenching him inward. Joss abandons her weapon out of instinct in favor of wrapping her arms around the man, entering a tug of war she’s bound to lose.

Staff is already at the crate, leveling shock after shock at it through the ventilation slats, with little result. The animal, if anything, pulls harder. 

The man in her arms screams and it’s sickeningly familiar. It’s the same one she’s heard from the battlefield, from field hospitals and hidden rooms that she’d rather forget. It’s the scream of someone who knows they’re about to die. 

“SHOOT HER!” Joss bellows, though whether it can be heard over the chaos is unclear. Human and non-human shrieks mix with the sound of stun guns and metal clanging.

The man is slipping away, literally, inch by inch from her arms, dragged into the void behind him. 

“SHOOT HER!” and Joss can’t bring herself to look at him in the face, instead focusing on his body, his arm, his hand. At the last moment, she forces herself to look, to meets his lifeless eyes- already in shock from blood loss, from the monster devouring him alive.

She wants to say she’s sorry, she wants it to be okay, but it won’t be. She blinks and with final pull, he’s gone. 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Ingram Estates, Westchester, New York] _

 

“Mr. Finch is here to see you.”

“Send him in,” he says into the bedside intercom. 

The door to the massive suit opens, admitting his friend. Nathan sits up slowly in preparation, wincing audibly slightly as he does. 

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Nathan replies. “Too much squash. Doctor says I should take up some low-impact activity, like drinking.” 

Harold’s mouth pulls tight at the joke. “I see the cancer hasn’t depleted your sense of humor.” 

“Well, it has, but the morphine helps it along.” Harold’s eyes run over him, as if checking for wounds, some evidence of the cancer that has been eating him alive over the past few years. Nathan prides himself on not letting it show, even if it means paying a little extra care and attention in the morning, but somehow Harold always sees right through it. He changes the subject, “This isn’t a social call though, is it?”

“There’s been another death.”

The smile chases away from his face, settling into something far less playful. “I’m aware. I was on the phone with Leon all morning. The Board is in an uproar.” 

“They have a lot of concerns.”

Nathan snorts, absently reaching for magazine on the bedside stand. “Yes, well, that’s what boards are for, right?” 

“ _ I _ have a lot of concerns.”

He looks up at that, retracting his hand to give Harold his full attention. “You always have.” 

Clearing his throat, Harold approaches the bed, placing a hand on the bedpost for support (whether for himself or Nathan, is unclear.). “I’m beginning to doubt it’s possible to make the park safe.” 

“Nonsense. If anyone can get it under control, it’s you.” 

Harold’s blinks at that, caught off guard the way he always has when Nathan complements him. For a man who endeavours to remain stoic, he certainly has his tells. Recovering quickly though, Harold broadens his posture slightly to cover. “You’ve been working remotely since you’ve…  taken ill,” Harold continues, with managed tact. “You haven’t been on the island. I’m not sure you’re really grasping the how dangerous things have become. Joss-”

“-Is an alarmist,” Nathan interrupts. “It’s her job to worry, to talk about danger. The woman was sleeping with literal lions when we found her christs sake.”

“Thirty-four people have been injured on site,” and all tact is gone, replaced with a level of grave sincerity Nathan hasn’t seen since he first revealed his diagnosis. “And now we have a fatality. I will not risk any further life for this.” 

“Now, you mean,” Nathan says, aware of the anger sparking within. “You won’t risk any further life now.”

Harold pauses, chewing on the words before finally spitting it out. “We need to cancel the opening. Postpone it at the very least.”

Nathan huffs, but Harold preses on. “We need to do a more thorough assessment and discuss our options. Including rethinking if this is even possible, let alone right. If we should have even done this in the first place. ” 

“ _ You absolute hypocrite _ ,” Nathan says lowly. Anger flows freely now and he’s not about to stop it. “It’s all well and good for you to conduct your ‘research’- to push the limits to Frankensteinian levels in  _ secret- _ because there’s no one around to question the cost. You raise and lower the bar for morality and ethics as it suits you and you alone. So don’t tell me this is different, that your work is somehow more right than mine. You’ve known from the beginning it’s not. ”

For a moment Nathan thinks he may have gone too far. Harold’s mouth opens slightly, pain and shock cracking through his normal facade. It’s a direct hit to an achilles heel Harold’s been nursing long before they met. Up until now, Nathan’s left it untouched, unspoken, and purposefully unaddressed between them for just this reason- for fear it would scare Harold off. 

He knew he couldn’t complete the park without Harold, without Harold’s science. So Nathan has soothed guilt, assuaged fears, coddled and cajoled his friend this far and now that the finish line is in sight Nathan is not about to trip. Not about to let anyone, not even his best friend, take it away from him.   

There’s a long pause, before Nathan speaks again, measured voice fighting against betraying the weathering he feels inside. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have a lot of time Harold. This park is my last chance to give something of real value to the world. I can't walk so far and leave no footprints; die and leave nothing with my name on it.”

“If we open as is, both our names could be synonymous with something terrible.” 

“I know,” Nathan sighs. “That’s why I came up with this.” He reaches to the night stand fetching a small piece of paper there. “This is a list of experts we’re going to invite to the park to come and take the tour. If they’re satisfied with the park, feel it’s safe, their testimonials ought to be enough for the Board and our lawyers to keep us moving forward.” 

He stretches out an arm and Harold takes the offered paper. Scanning down, his eyes widen at a name. “You can’t be serious.”

Nathan chuckles. “Thought you’d appreciate that one.” 

“The woman is a lunatic.”

“A lunatic who’s a huge ‘fan’ of yours, for years right? And more importantly happens to be popular and highly respected in her field.” 

“She studies Chaos, I’m not sure that’s the kind of publicity we need right now.” He looks back at the list. “The others are going to be difficult to persuade. How do you plan to go about it?”

“I’m not,” he smiles. “I’m booking you on the next flight out to Montana this evening. Pack your sunscreen.” 

Harold gapes (or at least his muted approximation of it). “I’m not sure I’m-”

“-You’ll be fine,” he waves off Harold’s unspoken concerns. “For once, you’ll get to handle one of these meetings while I lurk in the shadows.”

“You couldn't lurk if you tried.”

It’s said with ease and fondness, a throwback to early days when they first met, and Nathan smiles in kind. “Gather them up, and I’ll meet you guys down there.”

Harold frowns. “You’re planning to go to the site? In your condition?”

“I’m not missing this.”

It’s said evenly but force behind it startles them both. Nathan swallows roughly before continuing. He leans back into the pillows, clearing his throat and settling a bit. “I think you better getting going. You have a plane to catch and thank you, again. I… I can always count on you, Harold.”

There’s more to be said. Something weighty, something that’s ridden along side their relationship for decades settles behind Harold’s teeth. He pulls his lips tight over it though. Whatever it is, it’s clear he’s decided now isn’t the time. “I’ll see you on site then, I suppose.”

Nathan takes a breath, exhaling it slowly and that thing pressing in seems to abate. “Yes. You will.” 

Harold glances down at the list in hand. “Am I to extend her the invitation as well?”

Nathan chuckles, a short little burst, “God no, I’m not that cruel. I’ve already called her. She was very enthusiastic about the opportunity. Honestly, it sounded like she was expecting the call.”

“Unnerving.”

“A bit.”

Harold dawns his hat once more. “Goodbye Nathan.”

“Have a safe trip Harold.”

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Pollos Cuarta restaurant, San Jose, Costa Rica] _

 

A bead of sweat trails an erratic course down his neck before soaking into his shirt, pooling uncomfortably with the others that came before it.

He’s not made for this weather. Give him the cold, harsh New England winters he grew up with any day. He’d gladly take fifteen degrees below on the tail of a Nor’Easter, bundled in his heavy overcoat and hat doing private security or even on his Boston PD beat years before that. 

His life back in Boston may as well have been eons ago, the way it feels. That was before his kid got sick, before he got desperate enough to seriously consider having to beg, borrow, and yeah steal if need be, to get the money for treatment. It was before Simmons and his cohorts made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

_ An offer he’s finally rescinding today.  _

Lee is doing better. It took dozens of doctors, and more money than Rockefeller but the kid’s out of the woods (he’s a scraper, like his old man). Treatment is paid up too, paid for by three years of spying on IFT, funneling information back to Simmon’s organization. It’s not right, never sat well with him, but it’s done now. Lee is better, that’s all that matters. He’s not sure what will happen when he tells Simmons he’s quitting, when he severs ties. Maybe he’ll end up in jail, maybe he’ll end up at the bottom of the ocean or some landfill back in Revere, who knows. He did what needed doing and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

Lionel glances at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Simmons is late and somehow it feels on purpose. 

A heavy hand claps down on his shoulder, making him swear under his breath. Simmons slides around the table, in a way far too oily for a guy as dry and tough as shoe leather, and settles into the seat. “We call you, you don’t call us,” Simmons starts. “So this better be good.” 

Right down to it then. Maybe it’s better this way, rip it off, like a bandaid. “I’m out,” Lionel says, hands giving a gesture of release. “I’m done. Pass it along to your bosses.”  He leans back in his chair a bit as relaxed and confident as he dares, and braces for whatever comes next.

Simmons laughs, fucking laughs, and Lionel feels anger prickle under his skin.

“You’re done when we say you’re done,” the man says, gaze boring holes from across the table. “And we say you got more to do.”

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to find some other lackey for that, I guess. Not my problem.”

“You know,” Simmons smirks. “You got a bad habit of forgetting who your friends are, Fusco. That treatment your son got, that took more than money, that took access. These are powerful people and they get what they want. What makes you think they’ll let you just walk away?”

“I dunno, but I guess I’ll find out.” Fusco pushes back from the table and starts to stand, but a hand grasps his arm, yanking him back down into the chair.

Simmons leaves his hand there, grip like iron. “I don’t think you understand my meaning.” 

Fusco wrenches his arm free, glaring at the man across from him. 

“You think you’re the only one we keep tabs on, Fusco?” Simmons jeers, settling back in his chair once more.  “Congrats on Lee making the hockey team by the way. Be a shame if something happened now, when things are going so well.”

It’s tactless and blunt, but gets the point across well enough. Lionel grits his teeth so hard, he’s surprised they don’t shatter. “Stay away from my boy.” 

“Tell you what,” he says, smiling coldly. “You do this last job, you earn a leave of absence.”

“What job?” It’s automatic, and from the way Simmons grins, he knows it was a mistake.

“Embryos.” And the gears in Lionel’s head start turning. “We want the embryos. One of each of them oughta do it.”

“Oh is that all?” Lionel huffs, sarcasm dripping despite his fear. “Want me to skip on down to Fort Knox, lift a few gold bricks while I’m at it?” 

“You do this, you’ll buy your own gold bricks,” Simmons sneers.  “Ten thousand for every viable embryo. Another twenty if you get all fifteen species off the island.”

Lionel looks across the table at the man in front of him, thinks about the people he represents. Those were no idyl threats earlier. And that’s some serious cash. That’s college for Lee. And a fat nest egg to sit on too. The fact that he’s considering it, churns his stomach. “How exactly am I supposed to get those outta there?”

Simmons reaches into his messenger bag and for a moment Fusco wishes he’d have the presence of mind to bring his gun. Panic dissolves into confusion when the other man places a can of barbasol shaving cream on the table in between them. Before the question can be asked, Simmons unscrews the false bottom of the can, to reveal it as actually a container with long thin spots perfect for holding vials.

“It's cooled and compartmentalized inside. Good for 18 hours. You’ll use this-” he places a small USB on the table, “To crash their system. Tech guys at the base cooked it up special, based on the data you’ve so helpfully provided. Just plug it into the main system and press the button. Told them had to be so easy a monkey could do it.”

Fusco glares which doesn’t phase the other man at all. Instead, Simmons clips up his bag and stands. “My crew and I will be at the East Dock of the island, Saturday at 5pm, to pick it up.”

“ _ This _ Saturday?” Lionel gapes. “You’re outta your mind. I need at least a week to plan this out.” 

“We gift wrapped it up in fucking bow, I’m just asking you to get your fat ass there on time. You’ll figure it out, if you know what’s good for you.” He takes sunglasses from his pocket, drawing them onto his face. “Don’t get any ideas otherwise either, it’s not your strong suit. See you Saturday.” 

Simmons exits the plaza, leaving Lionel alone in the cafe. The sun beats down the same as it has all afternoon but the anger and frustration finally boils over, more than he can take. No one even bats an eye when Lionel hurls his mug to the ground. The shatter falls on deaf ears (that’s why they chose to meet here in the first place, after all). Around him people continue about their day, and after a long time, he decides it’s time to move as well. 

After Saturday, he’ll be done. After Saturday he and Lee will be free to start life over, the right way. 

He just has to last ‘til Saturday.

Lionel leaves a good tip as he exits, careful the broken glass doesn’t cut his feet or flip flops as he heads back to his car. 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Dig Site 3, Badlands outside Golva, Montana] _

 

“...The point is, you’re alive when they start to eat you. So, try to show a little respect.”

The terrified child nods emphatically. Satisfied that she’s made her point, Sameen Shaw retracts the fossilized velociraptor claw she just used to mime his evisceration, and turns to head back to the office trailer. 

Her colleague John shrugs to the larger group, no explanation necessary. The majority of the staff have worked with them for months, most of them are volunteers, Ph.D. students or interns here to dig and learn. In this case, if they want to learn from the renowned expert in paleontology, they’re going to have to deal with her renowned attitude too. 

Leaving the group, he jogs to catch up and falls in stride next to her easily. “You know Shaw, if you wanted to scare the kid, you could’ve just pulled a gun on him.”

“Less paperwork this way,” she mumbles, as they start up the bluff towards the trailer. It’s just past noon and the sun blazing, baking the ground and causing the heat to radiate from every angle. It reminds her of childhood, the time they spent in the Midwest. Summer days she would head out when the sun was at its hottest and walk the fenceline. The air would be stifling, constricting, and she’d imagine herself in the dark jungles of the Jurassic, lush with vegetation, and wish she could be there instead. “And you really want one of those?”

Reese chuckles, “I don’t want that kid, but a breed of child could be intriguing, when I find the right person. What’s so wrong with kids?”

“Other than the fact that they’re short, obnoxious, messy, know-it-alls?”

“You just described yourself.”

“Hey, I am  _ not _ messy.” 

“Hanging out with kids is good practice if you ever want to retire to academia,” he hums, nudging her shoulder a bit. “Weren’t you just saying something about cushy air-conditioned university life.” 

“Yeah, that it’s for softies like you.” She’s about to continue but the sound of an engine interrupts. A helicopter descends WAY too close, blowing sand and dust everywhere.

“Cover the site!” Shaw yells over the engine. Taking off towards the chopper, she leaves John and the crew to scramble to protect the dig. 

By the time she reaches the chopper, she’s ready to dismantle the helicopter and everyone that has anything to do with it, which is probably why the pilot refuses to open the door to talk to her. He opts instead to gesture towards the trailer up the hill that serves as a break room and main office. 

The high temperature on the Badlands today was around 110 F but her blood has boiled well past that by the time she throws open the door to the trailer. 

“What the fuck is your problem?!?!” Shaw yells upon entering, even before she’s fixed on the target.

The intruder, who had been rummaging in the fridge, turns around slowly and pops the champagne bottle in their hand. 

“Hey! We were saving that!”

The man sets down the bottle, gently limping forward a pace to extend his hand. “Harold Finch, IFT. I’m delighted to finally meet you in person Dr. Shaw.” 

She all but severs her tongue she bites it so hard tamping down her anger. Speechlessly, she shakes the hand offered. 

“I can see that our $50,000 a year has been well spent,” He says, gesturing out the small window of the shabby trailer, towards where workers and interns are crawling over the dig site like ants. His smile feels genuine, but also forced, like it’s an effort to make it look natural. Shaw can relate, never really feeling the necessity of small talk, especially with investor types. Needless to say, she’s more than thankful when John busts through the trailer door to interrupt. 

“Alright, who’s the jerk-“

“-This is our paleobotanist Dr. Reese,” she says, catching her colleague’s arm, halting him. “John, this is Harold Finch. 

“Finch as in…” he begins, going through the same rapid shift Shaw just did. He stares at the stranger, anger melting into embarrassment and landing on something that can only be described as stunned awe. After absorbing a moment, he wipes his hand on his shirt before offering it. “Nice to finally meet you. Sorry about calling you a jerk. ”

“I’ve been called worse, by far worse people,” Finch says, voice a bit softer and with a bit more familiar tone than with her. “And I assure you, the pleasure’s all mine.” The handshake lingers a bit longer than the one with her too, and Shaw has to suppress and eyeroll because  _ of fucking course _ . She shouldn’t be surprised though, Reese has that tall, dark, and rugged thing going for him- objectively speaking. “You’ve both been doing such amazing work, congratulations on your latest find by the way.” 

“It would be impossible without your grants,” Reese says politely and this time Shaw can’t stop the eyeroll. Whether he’s sucking up for business or personal reasons is unclear, but she’d rather not draw this out either way.

“Congratulations isn’t the reason you came all the way out here to bumfuck nowhere though,” Shaw says, getting Finch’s full attention once more. 

“You’re right Dr. Shaw. Allow me to explain?” For a man with a limp, he operates quite stealthily, handing them both a mug of the popped champagne before Shaw’s even registered he’s poured it. Taking a seat at the makeshift table, they wordlessly follow suit. 

“There’s an island, off the coast of Costa Rica,” Finch begins. “I leased it from the government and during the last five years my partner and I have been setting up a biological preserve. It is, objectively, quite impressive and my partner Nathan was rather adamant about ‘sparing no expense’.”  A coy smile pulls at his lips making her feel like he’s told an inside joke that he’s the only benefactor of. Something Shaw doesn’t give a shit about. “More important are the attractions, brought about by science so cutting edge we’re fairly certain will draw people from around the world. We’re opening next year, barring any further issues, but the lawyer representing our investors has insisted we get some outside opinions before continuing.”

“What kind of opinions?” Reese chimes in, thankfully. 

“Your kind, not to put too fine a point on it. You’re both the top experts in your field and an endorsement would fully ease our investors’ minds.”

“Why would your investors care what we think? What kind of park is this?” Suspicion stirs. She’s not sure what it’s all about still, but her bullshit meter is registering at an all time high. 

“One directly related to your interests.” 

There’s no knowing smile this time but she’s done with games either way. Finch must pick up in the shift in mood, as he continues the point quickly. “If you would,” he says, retrieving an envelope from his vest pocket. “I’d like to extend the invitation for you both to come on down for the weekend. There is a jet standing by in Great Falls.”

“Can’t.” she says, curt and clipt, because she’s not about being at the beck and call of some douche in a $9000 suit.  “We just discovered a new skeleton.” 

“I’d be happy to compensate by funding your dig.”

“What part of no don’t you seem to-“

“-For the next three years.” 

Reese elbows Shaw and it’s enough for her to cut through her annoyance and realize what it is Finch just said. Three years. It’s unheard of, an offer of a lifetime. She exchanges a look with John, who is desperately trying to hold back his excitement, and her mind is already spinning with the possibilities. 

She looks back to Finch politely waiting for her response, and sighs. If some rich bastard is willing to bankroll her to do what she cares about the most in exchange for a tour through his loopy amusement park, she’s game. “Fine. Yeah, we’ll go.” 

“Excellent.” Finch smiles, this time in clear relief. “I'll meet you and the others at the airport in Costa Rica Friday morning.” He stands, handing the plane tickets to Shaw. With a tip of his hat, he grabs his cane and begins making his way to the door. “Thank you again,” he says pleased, before slowly exiting the trailer. 

The door has barely closed before Reese breaks into grin, clapping Shaw’s back and wrestling her into a huge bear hug. She lets it happen, her own excitement bubbling inside, and when he releases her, she takes a long swig straight from the champagne bottle, not even caring about the grin that has slowly encompassed her face. 

“What the hell just happened?” he laughs, taking the offered bottle and pouring himself another cup. “This is amazing.”

“Maybe,” Shaw says. “I have a weird feeling about it though.” She takes another sip. “And if you’d remove your lips from his ass for one minute you’d think it was sketchy too.” 

John feigns innocence, “Just trying to curry a little favor for grant money.” 

“Money wasn't the only favor on your mind.”

He chuckles, picking the tickets up from the table, reading them. “ ‘Isla Nublar’ huh?”

Shaw downs the rest of her champagne in one go. “Better not regret this.” 

 

*_*_*_*_*


	3. Chapter 3

*_*_*_*_*

 

_ [Juan Santamaria Airport, San Jose, Costa Rica]  _

 

Shaw is used to hot, but not like this. Not the sticky, humid kind that envelops you from all sides, like you’ve stepped inside someone’s mouth. Taking her hat off, she wipes the band of sweat that’s collected there with the back of her hand before repositioning it back on her head. 

The quick gesture seems to catch someone’s attention. A tall, willowy woman, in a ridiculously weather inappropriate leather jacket makes eye contact with her from across the room. The crocodilian grin that slowly stretches across the woman’s face makes Shaw wonder if there’s a few screws missing. 

The woman appears to be heading their way though, accompanied by a nervous looking shorter man carrying a briefcase. He stretches his stride to try and match the woman's, which is not only ineffective but makes him look more awkward than his ridiculous linen suit already does. 

Shaw tips the brim of her hat a little lower and nudges Reese with her shoe. He abandones whatever futzing he was attending to with his luggage just in time to notice the odd couple approach and (thankfully) take over greeting them. “Hey there.”

“Doctor’s Reese and Shaw?” the man says, extending a hand. “ Leon Tao, IFT’s attorney.” 

John takes the offered hand, “Nice to meet you.” 

Leon shakes and looks to Shaw to offer the same but sees her expression and wisely thinks better of it. “Mr. Finch should be along shortly, he’s just signing off on the flight manifest.” A bead of sweat trails down Leon’s temple, dripping onto the ridiculous beige blazer. He looks uncomfortable in every way possible, eyes darting around, looking for relief. In doing so he seems to remember he didn’t arrive alone. “Oh, sorry. This is Dr. Samantha Gro-”

“-You can call me Root,” the woman corrects, and while the introduction is for both of them, she’s looking right at Shaw when she says it. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“What’s your field of expertise,” John asks, brimming with manners that Shaw could care less about. Right now she’s occupied with boring holes in the woman in front of her, engaged in a strange battle of eye contact. The other woman seems amused, the same relaxed yet condescending grin stretched across her face, redoubling Shaw’s gut reaction to smack it off. 

“Oh a little of this, little of that. Mathematics mostly,” she shrugs. “My specialty is Chaos Theory though.” 

Shaw scoffs lightly, which only seems to make the woman grin harder.  “Where did Finch dig you up?” 

“Interesting choice of words for a paleontologist,” Root says, and Shaw can feel John suppressing a laugh. “I found him actually. Been a fan of his work for years and years,” she sighs almost wistfully. “I’m excited to finally meet him.”

“You’ve never met?”

Root shrugs. “He’s a very private person...”

Finch’s ears must be burning, as just then the man of the hour appears, leaning lightly on his cane as he joins the circle. “Welcome to San Jose. I trust Mr. Tao has made introductions?”

Root steps forward into Finch’s space, barely suppressed a giddy-bordering on manic smile that makes Shaw really glad it’s not pointed at her. “Pleased to finally meet you Harold.”

“Ms. Groves,” he appraises her, body language stiff and expression a bit disconcerted.

“I’m very excited about your project, I’ve been following it closely.”

“Considering the project’s highly confidential nature, I find that less than reassuring.”

“We both know you have bigger things to worry about than little ol’ me,” the slight drawl catches Shaw’s attention despite herself. “But we have plenty of time to talk about that.”

“Indeed,” he hums, before turning attention to the rest of the group once more. “Shall we get going?”

“Yes, please,” Leon replies, pushing forward towards the helicopter on the adjacent tarmac. Finch and Root follow behind and Shaw meets Reese’s eyes before trailing behind. 

“I don’t think Finch is the only one that woman is a fan of,” John says under his breath.

“I will end you,” Shaw grits and almost as if she heard (totally impossible over the rotors of course), Root turns around giving Shaw a less than subtle wink before hopping into the cab of the chopper. 

Inside, the five passengers sit close but comfortably as the helicopter cuts its way over the open ocean. Finch sat between her and John before Shaw could object, forcing her to have to lean over the billionaire to hand two small pills to her colleague. She goes for nonchalant, but the move doesn’t go unnoticed by the other passengers. 

“Hope you’ve brought enough to share with the rest of the class,” Root says, somehow making the comment sound smarmy. Shaw represses the urge to bristle under the woman’s scrutiny. 

“It’s Dramamine,” John says, drawing Root’s attention to him momentarily. “I don’t have much of a stomach for flying.” 

“All that time chiseling away on the ground must suit you better than. That’s what you two do right? Dig up dinosaurs?” Her focus shifts back to Shaw. 

“Try to,” John hums, and way the woman chuckles at that, like it’s something amusing a child has said. It burns Shaw up. 

As if sensing the growing tension, Finch interjects.  “You'll have to get use to Ms. Groves. She suffers from a deplorable excess of personality, especially for a mathematician.”

“ _ Root _ ,” she corrects again, facade fraying slightly. Finch’s brow and mouth seem to flatten, a small but noteworthy gesture of his contempt. “Harold doesn't subscribe to Chaos Theory,” she says loftily to the others. “Particularly what it has to say about his little science projects.”

“I’ve yet to actually hear you come close to explaining these concerns of yours.”

“It all has to do with the behavior of the system in phase space.” 

Finch just sighs wearily and for two people who’ve never met before, there’s an awful lot of familiar animosity. 

“Dr. Reese, Dr. Shaw- you’ve heard of Chaos Theory I presume,” Root asks. 

Both shake their head no.

“No?  Non-linear equations?  Strange attractions?” she looks back and forth between the two, eyebrow quirked. 

John shrugs, and Shaw shakes her head once more. Root’s gaze settles on Shaw then, addressing her. “Dr. Shaw, I refuse to believe that you are not familiar with the concept of attraction.”

Shaw stares back, blank, and Reese smirks a bit, enjoying his friend’s discomfort. Root simply grins, all teeth and intent. 

Harold, for his part, shoots a disapproving look to Leon across from him “I bring scientists - Nathan brings an anarchist.” His frown is short lived as he catches sight of something out the window. “Ah, there it is.”

“Finally,” Shaw huffs. Ahead of them looms a sizable island, lush with vegetation. Clouds and low lying fog ring around the crown and foot of it and Shaw looks down and watches the waves crash as they begin to navigate through the cliffs to the interior.

It’s beautiful, and reminds Shaw of the jungles she used to dream of as a kid. The ones populated with animals from millions of years ago. 

“Bad wind shears here,” Harold warns. “We often have to drop pretty fast, but I assure you we’re perfectly safe.”

He’s no more than finished speaking when the helicopter drops like a stone. It corrects quickly, but everyone in the cab is shook, grasping at what they can. 

“Perfectly safe,” he says again, his words all but lost on the others as they fumble for their seatbelts. Outside the chopper is far closer to the cliffs for Shaw’s liking and the turbulence is enough to make it difficult to manage anything with ease. Four belts click into place, but when she looks up, she sees John is still trying to figure his out.

Somehow he’s managed to come up with two of the same buckles, hands scrambling around the seat looking for the other, like a panicked rabbit. The helicopter’s cab is rocking and shaking, and the lawyer, the weird woman and Shaw are trying their best to shout over the motor to give John some direction which only seems to add to the chaos.

Surprisingly it’s Harold, still calm and composed, that sets a gentle hand on top of John’s scrambling ones. The gesture actually shocks the paleobotanist in to stilling for a moment, giving Harold the opportunity to unbuckle one side of his own belt, extend it far as it goes, and reach across to buckle it over the both of them. 

John swallows hard and manages a weak “Thanks”, blushing all the way up to the tips of his ears. Harold smiles lightly, before returning his hand back to his cane, and attention to the rest of the cab. “See? Perfectly safe.”

The helicopter finishes the descent a minute or two later, and despite Finch’s assurances, all four guests don’t waste any time disembarking to solid ground. 

A tall man waits on the tarmac for them. Shaw recognizes him from IFT’s website, Nathan Ingram, the other owner. He greets them with a jovial hello, but something about the way his body sags slightly when Finch joins his side, makes her wonder just how much of the enthusiasm is an act.  Thankfully their all spared the full dog-and-pony show, as staff in garish salmon colored polo shirts opt to escort them into two Jeeps instead. Reese slides into the passenger seat of the first, leaving Shaw and Root relegated to the backseat. He makes sure to shoot her a wink to let her know that it was absolutely on purpose too. Shaw’s not sure how long this next leg of the journey is, but she’s not looking forward to spending it next to someone who has no problem devouring Shaw with her eyes. She does take some consolation in how the taller woman has to contort uncomfortably in the limited leg room.

In the Jeep behind them, Leon wastes no time getting down to business. “So, the full fifty mile of perimeter fence is in place?”

Nathan sighs, clearly annoyed. “And the concrete moats, and the motion sensor tracking systems.  Mr. Tao, I think you’ll find we have things quite in hand.”

Harold sits next to Nathan, eying him cautiously. His friend’s demeanor is buoyant, lighter than it has been in years, and completely incongruent with someone cusp of hospice. Harold cannot imagine the intense effort it’s taking for him to sit comfortably, let alone walk and move with a facade of normalcy. Harold knows he should be concerned but he cannot fully muster it. Seeing his friend up and about, that trademark spark and the twinkle in his eye returned, makes his chest ache with happiness. It’s like having the old Nathan  and even if it’s just for show Harold is going to cherish every minute of it knowing the next is far from guaranteed.

“Let's get something straight, Nathan,” Leon rambles on, cutting through the good mood. “This is not a vacation for me. It’s a serious investigation of the stability of the island.  Your investors, whom I represent, are deeply concerned. Forty-eight hours from now, if those egghead scientists you invited aren’t convinced, I’m not convinced. And I can shut you down Nathan,” he looks to Finch as well. “I can shut you both down.”

Nathan smiles humorlessly, and Leon blinks- there’s something slightly unnerving about it. “We’ll see.”  

Finch turns his attention to the driver. “Please radio the other car, have them stop at the next ridge. I think they’ll enjoy the view.”

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Sector 4, Service Road B, Isla Nublar] _

 

“Car 53, boss says stop at the next hill. Over.”

“Copy, stopping at next hill. Over” the pink clad staff radios back.

“Why are we stopping?” Shaw asks, anxious to finish the traveling portion of the day.

“Not interested in indulging in scenery along the way?” Root muses, enjoying the way the other woman rolls her eyes. 

Shaw doesn’t bother responding, instead fixes her sights on the top of the hill. As they slow, something catches Reese’s eye. He reaches out his window to rip a leaf off the plant as they roll on, and stares it intensely. “This isn’t right,” he mumbles, as the car comes to a stop. 

“What’s not riii…” but Shaw doesn’t bother to finish her sentence. She stares. Taking off her sunglasses and rubbing her eyes doesn’t make it any better either. Standing on her seat, she pokes herself through the open top of the Jeep to see better, brain struggling to make sense of the sight. 

“This. This isn’t right,” Reese continues, eyes still locked on the leaf in his hands. “This species of vermiform has been extinct since the cretaceous period. This thing-“

Shaw reaches over wordlessly, turning Reese’s head in the direction of the wonder. In almost the same fashion as his colleague, he takes off his sunglasses and stands up. His mouth fall agape because standing only a few meters away is a living, breathing dinosaur. 

The brachiosaurus must be 30 feet tall, her long neck extending up to continuing snacking on the tree she’s attending to.

“He did it. He actually did it,” Root whispers, a mixture of awe and disbelief on her face. 

Shaw and Reese climb out of the vehicle, stumbling closer. Shaw’s brain finally starts to catch up, but all she manages at first is, “That’s… that’s a dinosaur.” She grabs Reese’s arm, pointing, as if he couldn’t see it. 

He nods, on the same wavelength, eyes tearing up. “It’s a dinosaur.”

By now Harold has exited his jeep, leaning heavily on his cane as he joins the two scientists, a demure smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

Shaw’s mind is whirring to take it all in and she and John babble back and forth like excited kids on Christmas morning. 

“The movement!”

“-The agility. You’re right!” Reese nods, unable to take his eyes off the sauropod. 

“-Cold-bloodedness doesn’t apply, they’re wrong, this is a warm- blooded creature-”

“- absolutely. Case closed. This thing doesn't live in a swamp to support its body weight for God's sake!”

As if to prove a point, the gigantic animal effortlessly rears up on its hind legs to reach a taller branch, ripping the leaves and landing with a weighty impact that rumbles through them. 

“What’s it got a what, twenty-five, twenty-seven foot neck?”

“The brachiosaur?” Finch asks, gentle smile still playing on his lips. “Thirty.”

Shaw shakes her head, total disbelief and continues to walk towards it, a low stream of analysis babbling continuously. John turns away finally as Nathan joins Harold’s side, grinning like it’s Christmas morning. 

“How fast do they move?” John asks.

“Well,” Nathan smiles broadly, joining them as well. “We clocked the T-Rex at 35 mph.”

Shaw’s head whips around at that. “The what?”

“Did you say T-Rex?” Reese echoes.

“Yes,” Nathan shrugs.

“You've got a T-rex?”

“We have a T-Rex,” Nathan says, like a proud parent boasting. 

The sheer possibilities, probabilities, paired with the disconnect with reality as she’s known it to this point have Shaw reeling. This is what she’s always dreamed of. She looks at the jungle, the plains, the herd below and the pterodactyls soaring in the distance above- and has a feeling of returning to a home she’s never visited. She blinks, like something has glitched and it takes John’s hand on her arm to ground her once more. “I know,” he says, expression mirroring her own. “Yeah.” 

“Dr. Shaw, Dr. Reese,” Finch says quietly, as if he understands as well. “Welcome to Jurassic Park.”

They turn and look at the view again. A whole herd of dinosaurs crosses the expanse, maybe a hundred seen in a quick glance alone.

“They're moving in herds,” Shaw says quietly, finally back enough to absorb once again. “They  _ do _ move in herds.”

“We were right,” John nods, next to her.

Shaw turns slowly toward Nathan and Harold, shock finally wearing off. “How the fuck did you do this?”  

Nathan smiles, “I’ll show you.” 

Leon, leans against the other Jeep, grin plastered to his face, as very different possibilities and scenarios run through his own mind. He speaks to himself, in a voice that is hushed and reverent, “We are going to make a fortune with this place.”

 

*_*_*_*_*


	4. Chapter 4

*_*_*_*_*

 

_ [Visitor Center, Sector 1, Jurassic Park] _

 

Root is impatient. 

Their small group has been standing in the atrium just inside the Visitor Center for over ten minutes now. Nathan has been prattling on about the architectural design, fancy tech, and how they ‘spared no expense’- giving his best dog and pony show. That’s why they were invited, she understands, to be charmed and give their endorsement, but it’s not why she chose to accept that invitation.

She didn’t come here for Nathan’s little death-bed vanity project.

Just as she’s about to give up, he moves on, leading them to what looks like a small movie theater. Ushered into seats, Root’s reminded of one of the perks of going along with this tour. 

“Well, this is cozy,” she says, placing a hand on Dr. Shaw’s arm, where it sits on the armrest. “Hold my hand during the scary parts?”

The other woman doesn’t hesitate to shove Root’s hand off, crossing her arms like Root has cooties. It’s adorable, really, the way she protests. As if Root hasn’t caught the good doctor checking her out as well.

Root did her homework on the whole group before she arrived and Dr. Shaw’s history (both public and not) made for very interesting reading. It was intriguing to think about someone existing who functions so differently, free of much of the mess and confusion that most of humanity is bogged down by. And the packaging is nice as well.

Root doesn’t have long to revel in it though. Nathan and Harold settle on stools up front, on either side of the screen small screen there. 

If they’re about to give a powerpoint she’s going to get up and leave.  

They don’t, but it’s not far off. Instead a movie starts up, and it’s clear that this is the bilge they’re concocted for the masses to swallow regarding the science of how the hell they made dinosaurs. It reduces Harold’s elegant science to something a fifth grader could grasp, but she supposes that’s the point.

Despite it being hosted by an anthropomorphized DNA strand with southern accent just left of Foghorn Leghorn, it does clear up a few things. They got the prehistoric DNA from mosquitos that landed in ancient tree sap (explains Nathan’s massive buy-up of amber mines) and filled in the gaps with frog DNA. 

There’s a slow whir as the movie screen suddenly starts retracting into the ceiling, revealing a plexiglass window and a brick wall that. With a mechanical clank metal safety bars she somehow hadn’t noticed existed before, fold down into their laps. All of them make a noise of protest before Nathan’s forced chipper voice cuts them off.

“It’s sort of a ride, you’ll see. Spared no expense.”

The room begins to move, and Root’s pleased to see the enigmatic Dr. Shaw give the exaggerated eye roll that she herself had been about to. Nathan is such a show boat, she should have expected nothing less than spectacle. Even from a man on death’s door.

The room pivots and the brickwall behind the plexiglass gives way to the bright white of an enormous lab behind. Technicians in lab coats work on various stations and projects and Root feels like they’re finally getting to the good stuff.

“Are they anim-animaltronic-” Leon asks of the scene playing out.

“-No, those are the real lab workers. This is our lab,” Harold interrupts in, saving the man from further embarrassment. 

This is what Root has wanted to see the most (well, part of it), and apparently she’s not the only one. The ride continues on, sliding past the lab windows and presumably onto another attraction, and John and Sameen voice protests. 

“-Wait, how do you interrupt the cellular mitosis?!”

“-Can't we see the unfertilized host eggs?!”

The ride continues to slide steadily past though, already moving on to another set of windows, which give a glimpse into what looks like a control room.

“How do we stop this thing?” 

“Like I said, it’s a bit of a ride,” Nathan repeats, trying to quell the protests. “So you can’t just stop-” 

His words are cut off as John and Sameen take one look at each other, before grabbing the lap bars and wrenching them up and off them. 

“Hey! You can't do that!” Leon yelps, but it’s too late. Root wrenches hers up as well, loving every minute of this. 

John and Sameen ignore Nathan’s gruff protests and head out the door back to the labs they passed. Root follows closely behind the two scientists as they file passed lab coated workers. John is making a beeline for something near the back. 

_ Eggs _ . 

Seven eggs sit in a giant nest, heat lamps blazing down on them. Each are slightly larger than that of an ostrich, and to everyone's absolute awe, one is starting to stir, to crack.

“Oh my…” Harold says as he approaches the group, Nathan and the lawyer following behind. “Good timing it seems.”

“Ah, Daniel,” Nathan beams, clapping the back of a young looking scientist that’s just wandered over to the incubator. “Why didn’t you tell me- you know I like to be here when they’re born if I can.”

The tech, Daniel apparently, looks rather nonplussed by Nathan’s gregarious greeting. Root likes him already.

Her attention is drawn back to the table though, as a small nose cracks through the shell. After a few moments of struggle, the creature manges to squirm it’s way out more fully and she’s not sure what kind it is but from both paleontologists’ reactions, there’s something very wrong.

“Is that a Velociraptor…” Shaw says quietly, something dark stirring behind her eyes. 

Daniel remains nonplussed, not bothering to look up from his clipboard to confirm. “Yes.”

Shaw looks to Nathan and Harold, and yes it is rage is simmering under the woman’s skin, and precariously close to boiling over it seems. “You breed raptors?”

“Sure,” Nathan shrugs.

Shaw looks to John and he just shakes his head. She turns back to Nathan. “And how exactly is that a good idea?”

“Well, we have multiple layers of precautions for all the carnivores in our collection. As you’ll see throughout the rest of the tour, we take safety very seriously.”

“What about the ones born in the wild?” John asks. He’s turned slightly away, but keeps glancing down at the animal in question, as if he needs to keep an eye on it.

“There won’t be any bred in the wild,” Daniel interrupts. “We’ve genetically modified them all to be female. They can’t breed.”

“Never say never,” Root scoffs, and suddenly all eyes are on her.

“You’re suggesting that a population of all females will somehow be able to breed? That they’ll be able to overcome our intentional coding- as well as several other genetic and chemical safeguards we’re manufactured and somehow just... make it happen? ” It’s Nathan that says it, irked just enough into defensiveness to let his incredulity bleed into this tone. It’s not him she looks to, though, it’s Harold. He’s keeping what Root deems to be a fairly good poker face, but the level of serious attention he’s giving waiting for her answer, she can bet he’s putting weight to whatever she may say.

She tries not to smile because this is every bit of what she expected, what she almost dreaded. The assumptions, the hubris. “I’m not saying  _ that, _ I’m just saying… life finds a way.”

Shaw turns to Nathan. “I want to see where you’re holding them. The Raptors.” 

It’s not a question, it’s a demand, and Nathan has the common sense to realize that saying no is going to be a very poor idea, so he nods. “Okay. It’s just down the road. Follow me.” 

Root is liking this short, angry woman more and more by the moment.

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Raptor Holding Paddock, Sector 1, Jurassic Park] _

 

The group stands in the small clearing, looking upward. The walls of the Raptor Paddock are almost four stories high. A small ramp winds its way up to a viewing platform at the top near what looks like the electrified barbed wire encircling the top. There is no glass that Shaw can see, only a heavy metal gate that looks like something that a military base might use to fortify it’s entrance with. 

“They should all be destroyed.” 

The group turns as woman dressed in khaki gear and safari hat approaches.

“Joss Carter, our Game Warden,” Nathan says in introduction. “Bit of an alarmist, but knows more about Raptors than anyone.”

Shaw is at Carter’s elbow almost immediately, skipping over whatever socially polite preambles are probably necessary. “What's their growth rate?”

“They're lethal at eight months, and I do mean lethal,” Carter says seriously.” I've hunted most things that can hunt you, but how these things move…”

“-Hey, why don’t we continue this conversation over lunch. Our chef has prepared some Chilean Sea Bass, simply fantastic- spared no expense,” Nathan rambles candor fraying slightly, edging closer to nervous. 

“I’d like to see up on the observation deck,” John says.

“Yes, me too, “ Root adds. 

“O- of course,” Nathan concedes quickly, careful not to rock the boat. “This way then.” He ambles slowly in that direction, the rest of the group following. Shaw and Carter do as well, bringing up the rear still fielding questions.

“Fast for a biped?”

“Cheetah speed if they ever got out in the open.” 

They reach the top near the electrified barbed wire. Everyone is looking down into the pen, so Shaw makes her way to the edge as well. All she can see is the foliage canopy of the trees about two stories below them. She estimates the ground to be about another 20 feet below that, but it’s completely obscured by the greenery.

“They're astonishing jumpers,” Carter says, answering the unspoken question.

“Yes. That's why we're taking extreme precautions,” Nathan pipes in. 

“Do they show intelligence?” John asks.

“They show extreme intelligence. Problem-solving intelligence. Especially the big one. We bred eight originally, but when she came in she took over the pride and killed all but two of the others. That one...” Carter’s mouth pulls tight over something but continues. “When she looks at you, you can see she's working things out.”

Carter looks to the guard tower on the adjacent side of the paddock, gesturing to him in a circle motion with her finger. 

A cranking sound startles the group. It’s source is a small crane connected to sling. To their surprise, the sling holds a full-sized cow. 

Nathan’s worried expression seems to indicate this was not necessarily part of the tour he’d planned for.

“We have to feed them this way,” Carter says, this time something akin to anger or frustration. “The leader, the big one, had them attacking the fences when the feeders came.” 

“The fences are electrified, right?” John asks, unconsciously taking a pace back, as the group watches the cow slowly lowered below the foliage line.

“That's right, but they never attack the same place twice. They were testing the fences for weaknesses systematically. They remember.” 

Carter’s voice has a foreboding quality and a unsettling silence follows. In the jungle outside the compound life beats on; birds, monkey’s, the sounds of the jungle, but but there is no sound from the foliage below. The crowd seems to be collectively holding their breath as well, straining to hear. For what, they’re not sure. 

There’s a gentle rustling at first, branches move slightly, pushed by movement below. Then, out of nowhere, things explode in chaos.

It’s unclear how many are below but the foliage churns like a piranhas attack, a frenzy. Screeches split the air as the raptors attack, the cow only letting out helpless cries as it’s torn to shreds below. The screams continue until crescendo and then suddenly cut off into quiet calm once more. 

The wench clicks back to life and as the sling rises out of the leaves and palm frawns, the scope of what happened below sharpens into focus. The canvas of the sling is torn to pieces, the metal parts of it bent. Bloods drips from the remaining fabric, no trace of the animal that was there previously. Shaw looks down the line at her compatrion. Root’s mouth is a small ‘o’, eyes wide, and Leon looks like he’s going to be sick. John meets her eyes, concern heavy there.

It’s Nathan that finally breaks the silence. “Yes, well, who's hungry?” 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Dining Hall, Visitor Center, Jurassic Park] _

 

Lunch is, in a word, a disaster. 

Leon had hoped,  _ prayed _ , that a break for food and drink would stymie the rising negativity that started at the Raptor paddock, but no such luck. The moment those doctors’ asses hit the dining room seats, it was off and running. 

The tall guy Reese didn’t waste any time laying in heavy with the ethics of this all, or lack thereof, in his opinion. Ingram didn’t buckle though, snapped back something about how it isn’t different than the black rhinos they recreated at their African game preserve or whatever.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, if tall guy’s reaction was anything to go by. That was the point at which Leon decided set his focus more on the food than the company. 

He managed to eat a half dozen bacon wrapped scallops, and three dinner rolls slathered in butter while the scary Dr. Shaw went on in rather graphic detail about the physical threats that these dinosaurs created. Finch had a few words to say about security, but it didn’t really make a dent. Leon abandoned the conversation entirely when Ms. Crazy- Root- whatever her name is- jumped in talking about them playing God. From her tone, he’s actually not sure if she was pro or con. She creeps him out, so he’s fine keeping some distance. 

Things circle back to Dr. Reese eventually and he starts going on about how the plants in the building were poisonous, but they picked them because they looked good or something. By then, Leon feeling like he’s done a pretty good job losing himself in the most delicious ice cream sundae he’s ever had. His attention only circles back when Nathan references him. “- and I can’t believe the only one on my side is the blood sucking lawyer!” 

“Thank you!” Leon says, oddly validated because is he really the only one that sees the potential here? He can’t help that he’s a visionary. They’d make more money than Disney just plastering that ugly red and yellow bordered logo on everything from lunchboxes to t-shirts. They’d double it if they had a friendly mascot. Suburban moms everywhere will be fighting in Walmart over who gets the last Terry the Triceratops halloween costume within a year of opening. Terry will eat Mickey Mouse’s profits for breakfast. 

The ‘experts’ don't seem to see it that way though. Presently, Reese’s expression has flattened entirely and he looks directly at Finch when he says, “You were so concerned whether or not you could, did you even for one second think whether or not you should?” 

It may be aimed at Finch, but it’s Ingram that reacts. If this were a cartoon, the man would have steam coming out his ears like a tea kettle. Beside him, Finch has gone deathly still, the draw of his mouth indicating more guilt than Leon is comfortable seeing on a client’s face. The ice cream on Leon’s spoon melts off, splattering back into his bowl as he waits to see what happens next. 

Before things can truly explode though, a pink shirted employee enters to room. He whispers something in Ingram’s ear before disappearing and Leon would like to thank the creator above because whatever it is causes Ingram to visibly relax. He takes a deep breath, exhaling it and a smiles actually tugs at his lips, “Good news,” he says. “The kids are here.” 

 

*_*_*_*_*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Author’s Note: Fun fact- the book ‘Raptor Red’ mentioned in this chapter is a real book… and it’s literally trumped up Raptor fanfic, written by the leading authority on Raptors at the time. Other fun fact, I know this because I read it when I was ten and obsessed with dinosaurs and I’ll tell you that the book is every bit as weird as it sounds it is.]

*_*_*_*_*

 

_ [Visitor Center, Sector 1 Jurassic Park] _

 

The dregs of lunch are abandoned quickly and most in the room, including Shaw, are happy to move away from the awkwardness. They are barely outside the Visitor Center’s doors when two little blonde girls barrel into Ingram, nearly knocking him down.

“Kids!” He says, matching their grins. They hug him tight before spotting Finch, and moving on to do the same.

“Uncle Harold!” the older one proclaims, and Finch seems much less prepared for the onslaught but the expression on his face is warmer than any Shaw has seen yet.

“I saw the cars! I want to know how you got the final bugs out of the programming,” the taller girl asks Finch, taking the bemused billionaire by the arm and leading him towards the two SUVs parked below. 

“Gen and Claire spend the year at boarding school normally,” Ingram says, watching as both hop around Finch excitedly. “Having my girls visit at the park now gets two birds with one stone. We get spend our summer together, as well as see how the park plays to our key demographic.” He adds a wink at at Leon at that. 

“Come on all,” he continues. “Let’s get this tour on the road, shall we?” 

The group descends towards the vehicles. The kids have moved on from Finch and are crawling around the interior of the second car, chattering excitedly about something. “Hey! Careful with that!” Leon yelps jogging over while the remaining adults make their way towards the first car. John opens the driver side door looking in. The steering wheel is there but covered in fabric, and there’s no ignition switch or gear shift. 

“No drivers? It’s all automated?” John asks.

“Yes, everything is controlled by our Control Center here at headquarters,” Finch says at his elbow. 

“Spared no expense,” Nathan crows, leaning his back against the vehicle, and Shaw swears if he says that phrase one more time, she’s going to kill him.

“Computers can bite me,” she huffs, meeting Reese’s eyes. There’s a silent exchanged understanding. It’s a learned reticence in relying on computers born out of having to lately for their digs, and almost always being let down. For Shaw, they’ve only caused more headaches and problems, and finding that everything here is dependent on them is unnerving to say the least.

“Dibs on seconds,” Root says in her direction, quiet enough to get her attention, and obnoxious enough not to hold it. Shaw turns away from the woman and almost runs into the shorter of the two girls. 

“Hi.” 

She blinks down at the curly headed girl. “Uh, hi.”

“I’m Gen, kind of a big fan. I’ve read your research and I have some questions.”

“Okay?” Shaw says, not really sure how to proceed.

“You really think dinosaurs turned into birds? And that's where all the dinosaurs went?”

“Well, uh, a few species may have evolved along those lines yeah.”

“Because they sure don't look like birds to me.” 

She is so not in the mood for this. Turning, Shaw makes her way towards the front car. The girl, Gen, follows though and climbs inside right after her. “I heard,” Gen continues. “That a meteor hit the earth and made like this one hundred mile crater someplace down in Mexico. Then I head about this thing in OMNI?  About the meteor making all this heat that made a bunch of diamond dust?”

Unsure how exactly to stop whatever it is that’s happening, Shaw simply climbs out the other side of the SUV and begins making her way back to the rear car. Gen trails behind, unbothered by the pursuit, enthusiastic commentary flowing without interruption. “And that changed the weather and they died because of the weather? Then my teacher told me about this other book by a guy named Bakker? And he said the dinosaurs died of a bunch of diseases.”

Shaw rolls her eyes at that one, reaction automatic. “Bakker’s an idiot.”

“He’s considered top of the field,” Gen says matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, well, he also writes bad dinosaur fanfiction so I’m not sure how much clout I want to give him.”

“Oh my god, you actually read ‘Raptor Red’?” Gen laughs. “Seriously?”

There’s a snicker from the other side of the hood, and Shaw looks up to see Root and Reese smirking at her. No. She’s not about to let herself get roasted by a ten year old. ”Look, which car are you getting into?”

Gen tilts her chin up and crosses her arms defiantly. “Whatever one you are.” 

“Seems like I have some competition,” Root grins and Shaw really, really wishes she’d just stayed in Montana. Exhaling slow and controlled she makes her way towards the second car once more. 

“So yeah, anyway what are your thoughts about the theories? Have you guys dug up anything new that supports any of that?” Gen continues, firing questions as she trails at Shaw’s heals. She’s still talking when Shaw opens the door for her- and still when Shaw shuts it on her after. 

Shaw’s smirk of victory is short lived because when she turns back, she’s almost face to face with the other girl- the taller one. “Hey.”

“Hello…?” 

“Dr. Reese said I should ride with you. Something about practice for your teaching job?”  

Over the girl’s shoulder, Reese is giving that faux innocent sheepish look at her and yeah, this is going to be a long afternoon.

 

*_*_*

 

_ [ Control Room, Visitor Center, Jurassic Park] _

 

Harold sits at the computer as Nathan souches heavily in a chair next to him, watching the monitor over his shoulder. 

“Vehicle headlights are on but won't respond. Those shouldn't be running off the car batteries,” Harold sighs and opens a spreadsheet on the other monitor, noting it. “Item one fifty-one on today's glitch-list.  All the problems of a major theme park and a major zoo, and the system isn’t even close to being ready for the public.”

“I’m more worried about this hurricane,” Carter says from the side, eyes on a monitor depicting just that. “We’re at 75% evacuation for staff now by the way…” 

Nathan frowns. It’s quite clear she believes they should  _ all _ be evacuated by now… and the project scrapped and the island razed to the ground. Between her issues and Harold’s pessimism, the negativity is catching. 

He can’t afford to let that negativity seep in. His body is already pushed to its limits today, screaming for attention that he refuses to answer. He doesn’t have the option to do so. This tour needs to go smoothly, perfectly, which requires constant vigilance and sometimes an iron fist. That was always more of his skill, than Harold’s. which is why he came to oversee it himself. Sometimes you need to add a little pressure to the to smooth out the wrinkles. 

Something across the room catching his eye.  _ Speaking of wrinkles _ , he thinks, prying himself up from the chair to make his way over to the security technician’s desk. There, sipping at his Jolt cola, Lionel Fusco abscently glances between the security camera feeds on one monitor and a Costa Rican game show playing on the other. 

“Comfy?” Nathan says, slight frown setting further into something far more disapproving. “We’re in the middle of our grand opening debut and you look like you’re on vacation.”  

Lionel turns his chair around, dusting a few errant crumbs off his hawaiian shirt. He rolls his eyes. “Not all of us can afford Dolce and Gabanna Republic or whatever.” 

“I'm sorry about your financial problems,” Nathan says, without much empathy “I really am. But they are  _ your _ problems.”

“Yeah, no need to worry about mine when you got several dozen of your own it seems.” Fusco smirks, gesturing back towards Harold who’s typing away furiously. “How much are your lawyers paying to make that guy’s family stay quiet by the way? Do you even know his name?”

“I suggest, you mind your own business.” He says, quiet fury building.

“Rodriguez, by the way. That was his name,” Lionel says, fury of his own building as he stares Nathan down. “Hell of a guy. Two month old baby on the way.” 

“Lionel, the headlights?” Finch interjects gently from across the room.

“I’ll send someone out to check it out when they get back, that good enough for you?” Fusco shouts back, eyes never leaving Nathan’s.

Carter, who’s been watching a larger set of monitors nearby, clears her throat loudly, getting the rest’s attention. “Quiet! All of you! They're coming to the Tyrannosaur paddock.”

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Tyrannosaur Paddock, Sector 3, Jurassic Park] _

 

The two SUVs drive along a high ridge and stop at the edge of the large, section of fence almost 40 ft. high, clearly marked with "DANGER!" signs and ominous-looking electrical post. Behind the fence is a dense section of jungle, only different from the ones prior for the 20’x20’ cleared section behind it where they stopped.

Everyone presses forward against the windows, eyes wide and waiting. In the rear car, the automated tour guide drones on:

_ “The mighty Tyrannosaurus arose late in the dinosaur history. Dinosaurs ruled the earth for one hundred and fifty million years, but it wasn't until the last-” _

“Can someone get that thing to shut up?” Shaw snaps, eyes scanning the thick vegetation for any sign of the beast.” 

John flips a switch and it cuts out. The three focus on the other side of the fence, looking for any sign of life, but none comes. The silence that follows only last a minute or two before Root flops back her seat, letting out a snort of amusement

Ingram’s voice interrupts over the car’s speakers. “Just a moment. We’re going to offer it some incentive.” 

A low humming sounds starts up from inside the paddock and a small cage rises up into view lifted on hydraulics from underground. The cage bars slide down, leaving the cage's occupant, a small goat, standing alone in the middle of the clearing.

In the front car, Claire gapes at the sight. “He’s going to eat the goat?” Claire says, sticking her tongue out in disgust. 

“What’s the matter kid?” Leon mutters from the front seat. “Never had lamb chops before?”

“I happen to be vegetarian,” Claire grumbles, barely sparing him a glance. 

In the rear car, Shaw scowls at the sight. “T-rex doesn't want to be fed, he wants to hunt. You can't just suppress sixty-five million years of gut instinct.” She watches as the goat waits and from the SUVs, six faces watch it expectantly. The goat tugs on its chain. It walks back and forth, before finally laying down. 

The rest of them finally sit back in their seats as well, disappointed. The cars pull forward, continuing the tour. Root leans forward, face in the camera positioned from the front, taunting smile on her lips. “Nathan, you eventually do plan to have dinosaurs on your dinosaur tour, right?”

The little huff of of amusement Shaw lets escape makes Root positively beam. 

There’s no answer back from the Control Room, not that any of them expected there to be. Shaw slouches down in her seat, trying not to look like a pouting child (and failing). Reese and Root return to their seats as well, as the jeep begins to move once more. Reese keeps his eyes peeled for the next attraction, still hopeful, while Root attends to another type of attraction entirely. She leans forward, arms on the shoulder rests and head poking between the drivers and passenger seat.

“You know, this just further underlines my point. The Tyrannosaur doesn't obey set patterns or park schedules. It's the essence of Chaos.”

“You still haven’t really said what the hell that is,” Shaw grumbles before she can stop herself. 

“It simply deals with unpredictability in complex systems. It's only principle is the Butterfly Effect. A butterfly can flap its wings in Peking and in Central Park you get rain instead of sunshine…”

Reese seems completely tuned out, preoccupied with squinting out the window, something in the distance capturing his attention. Shaw feigns disinterest, but Root clearly isn’t buying.

“For example… let me just grab that,” Root reaches for the water in the cup holder under the  center console. She leans half her upper body forward to reach, placing her right hand on Shaw’s left thigh, under the flimsy pretense of keeping her balance. She leans a bit further and lets fingers trail back much slower than necessary as she takes her seat, and Shaw wonders why she let her do that. She’s about to comment on the invasion of space, but Root reaches over and takes her left hand in hers without asking and that trumps the leg thing. 

She yanks it out of Root’s grasp, “What are you doing?” Shaw looks to Reese for backup, but finds his attention still transfixed on something in the distance.

Root rolls her eyes. “Relax, I’m not asking you to go steady. It’s part of my example.” She grabs up Shaw’s hand once more and strangely Shaw lets her. 

“Make a little table top with your fingers, like this.”

Shaw just stares back.

“This is a teaching moment, trust me,” and though it goes against everything Shaw thinks she should, she does.

“Thank you,” Root grins. She lets go, dips two fingertips suggestively into the cup before flicking a little water onto the back of Shaw’s hand.  “Watch the way the drop of water falls on your hand. You see the path the water takes?”

This close, Shaw can feel the other woman’s breath on her face.  She stays stock still though, waiting, wagering. 

Root looks up briefly, before returning her gaze to Shaw’s hand. “Now freeze your hand just like that. I’m going to do it again. Which way to you think it’s going to roll off? Same way or different?”

Shaw just glares like she’s had enough of this charade, yet doesn’t move or yield. Root continues on, clearly delighted by the passive consent to do so. She drops another droplet of water in the same spot before, and it rolls off in a different direction than the first. 

“See, it changed.” Root places the water down, and returns to hold Shaw’s hand instead. 

“And look here,” she continues, grazing a fingertip over Shaw’s knuckles, palm, tracing veins. “It’s because, here is the principle, of tiny variations the orientation of the hairs on your hand, the amount of blood distending in your vessels, imperfections in the skin- though I honestly don’t see any real imperfections-“ earning another eye roll from Shaw before continuing. “They never repeat, and vastly affect the outcome. And what does that mean?”

Shaw continues to glare.

“Unpredictability, exactly,” Root answers, eyes meeting Shaw’s. Faces inches apart, her eyes dip to Shaw’s lips suggestively, causing Shaw’s heart beat to tick up. Muscles tense in anticipation of… something, but Root simply grins, giving Shaw’s hand a little squeeze before releasing it and settling back into her seat. 

“That’s what it’s all about and even if we haven’t seen it yet, I’m sure that’s what’s happening in the park right now.” 

“Kind of bleak outlook, that lack of agency,” Shaw says, muscles relaxing back into her seat as well.

The mathematician sighs, mood flattening a bit. “People are fools if they think they can predict- or worse, control- what’s going to happen, with anything, at any given moment.”

Independent of the discussion, Reese makes an example of this by opening the driver’s side door and hopping out. He jogs off into the brush, apparently needing a closer look at what he’s been tracking in the field just beyond the road. 

“See,” Root sighs. “No one could have predicted the big lug would suddenly jump out of a moving vehicle.”

“Reese?” Shaw shouts, not hesitating to exit the car herself. 

“See, fellas. Chaos theory.” Root grins, giving a wink to the camera in the car (to her other intended audience) before jumping out to join them.

Shaw fights her way through vegetation, following the path Reese blazed only moments before. She’s happy for an excuse to leave the car and the conflicting impulses simmering there, but the grass is about eye-level with her and a pain to keep from smacking her back in the face when she parts it. Exiting into the clearing, she’s ready to ask what the actual fuck has gotten into him, but her admonishment dies on her lips. A few meters ahead stands Reese, talking animatedly with a staff member of the park, and beside them lays a fully grown Ankylosaurus.

Any dissonance Shaw was feeling before is wiped blank at the sight of the enormous animal. It’s laying on its stomach, not moving, but breathing. Large raspy breaths kick up dust just in front of its beak, but it appears fine otherwise. 

Shaw strides up, joining Reese and addressing the staff he’s conversing with. “Can I touch it?”

“Sure, go right ahead. He’s tranq’d pretty heavily,” the woman says. Her badge reads Harper and Shaw wagers she’s one of the islands veterinarians. Introductions can wait though, as Shaw approaches the animal for a closer look. 

It’s probably about 18 feet long, but not that much taller than Reese, Thick plates of boney armor shell it’s head, back all the way down to his club-ended tail. She runs her hand along its back as she slowly circles towards the head, completely at a loss for words. As she rounds forward to face the animal, its eyes meet hers and she almost loses her breath too.

She’s not sure how long she stands there, entranced, but Reese’s hand on her shoulder brings her back. Taking a slow breath, she nods in thanks, and he withdraws his hand. 

“He was my favorite as a kid,” Shaw starts. “And now here he is, alive and breathing. I never, ever…”

“I know,” Reese sighs. “Dr. Harper says he’s been exhibiting imbalance, disorientation, labored breathing.  Seems to happen about every six weeks or so.”

“Six weeks…” Shaw says, shifting into scientist mode. 

From behind them, Shaw hears an excited shout and turns. Gen burst forward from the grass, shrieking with delight at the sight of the dinosaur, running over to investigate further. A moment later, the rest of the tour participants emerge; Claire, then Leon, with Root bringing up the rear. 

“We shouldn’t be out here. We should get back to the SUV,” Leon argues, but Gen has already busied herself stroking the animal’s armor (much the way Shaw did). Root and Claire have dispersed to check things out as well though appear a bit more apprehensive about getting close, and as far as Shaw’s concerned that’s fine by her, it’ll give them more time to investigate.

“Hey check these out,” Reese says. He’s crouched by the animal’s mouth. Shaw leans down and sees the dark colored blisters all along its tongue. Reese gently scrapes at one, white pus oozing out at the touch.

“Microvesicles. Its eyes are dilated too, but that couldn’t be from the tranquilizer. Something pharmacological likely. Maybe he ate something he shouldn’t have…” Reese mumbles. He pops up and begins to survey the plants around the clearing leaving Shaw and Harper to trail behind. It only takes a few minutes for him to find what he’s looking for. “Is this West Indian lilac?”

“Yeah. We know they’re toxic but the animals don’t eat them,” Harper shrugs. 

Reese hums, brow furrowed. “There's only one way to be positive.  I need to see some droppings.”

“Suit yourself,” Harper shrugs gain, before pointing just east of the clearing. “The piles are four feet high. Can’t miss ‘em.” 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Control Center, Sector 1, Jurassic Park] _

 

Lionel checks the time again, and attempts to steele his nerves. 

The plan is simple: insert Simmon’s USB, set off the fuck-things-up program, swipe the embryos when the system is down, and high tail it to the East Dock before they know what hit ‘em. 

The hurricane bearing down on them, was not part of the plan however, and suddenly there’s a lot more activity and focus in the Control room than he’d anticipated. Harold and Nathan’s presence doesn’t help, it’s a bit like having to steal a baby when the parents are in the house. 

The reckless, narcissistic parents with no oversight, Lionel justifies. An old refrain he’s been leaning on since he first got into this predicament. 

When Simmons first told him what was the island’s project was, he’d scoffed in disbelief. When he saw it for himself, when the reality of the science sunk in and the shock wore off, he balked at nerve of it. It’s disgusting but unsurprising, it’s the way it’s always been, he figures. People with with too much money thinking they can do whatever they want, like the rules of God and man don’t apply. 

Meeting Harold and Nathan, seeing and working closely with the men behind the curtain, changed his views a bit though. 

Harold, at least, wasn’t what Lionel expected. Beneath the suit and the monotone, it’s clear the man was nervous as a flea, and wound twice as tight. He was fair to employees, fair to Lionel even, and he’s overheard the guy more than a few times voice concern over the safety of the project as a whole. He’s also heard him talk about the science, about the greater impact on the world. He talks about it with a verve and passion that seems to light him from the inside out, his words reverberate with the energy of it. It’s catchy, for sure, and more than once Lionel starts to feel like a bit of a cad for duping him like this. 

Any hesitations are usually squashed when Nathan comes around though. The guy has always rubbed him the wrong way, just a bit. Maybe it’s that glib easy manner people who grew up with money tend to have, or the way he uses it to flirt and charm those around him. Whatever it is, he just never sat right by Lionel, and that animosity was mutual.

So that’s what Lionel clings to today, a small justification keeping him motivated for this last and final betrayal. It’s not much, but he’ll make it enough to get the deed done. He’ll figure out how to assuage and atone for guilt once all this is behind him.

“The storm looks bad.” 

He looks up and Joss is there, leaning a hip against his desk and nodding at the monitors across the way. 

“Yeah, get the sandbags.”

“I can’t believe they still sent that tour out.”

“Well, I sure as hell can,” Fusco deadpans, earning a look from the game warden. “It’s just more of the same ain’t it? Thinkin’ if they build enough fences, hire enough guns, automate enough shit, get enough experts to sign off, they can make it safe. But you know what I think?” Carter raises an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. “I think ‘Pride goeth before the fall’. “

“I’d leave the literary references to the English majors.” Carter huffs. “But you’re not wrong.” She looks across to the two founders, both debating something on the monitors. “Keep playing God and sooner or later an innocent person’s going to get hurt.” 

“Then why stick around?”

She shrugs, pushing off from the desk lightly to stand. “You know how it is, you were a cop. Serve and Protect...”

The fake Barbasol can weighs heavily in his pocket and he finds himself tearing away from Carter’s gaze. “That was a long time ago.” 

“Yeah.” She frowns, gaze staying on him critically as he fiddles with something else on his desk. “Well, I better see if these two idiots need anything.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, eyes drawn to his phone as it buzzes slightly. 

Carter moves on, albeit hesitantly, and when Lionel sees the phone’s Caller ID, he’s very grateful for it. He clicks open a security feed, the one for the East Dock, and picks up the phone.

“You gotta give me more time,” Fusco hushes into the phone’s mic, sneaking nervous glances between his computer and his bosses across the room. “They’ve already had the staff evacuate the island but tweedles Dee and Dumb are still here.”

On the monitor, Simmons stands in a full yellow suit looking like the Gordon’s fisherman while rain pelts him sideways. The boat docked behind him is taking a beating from the swells crashing in and Lionel can see him yelling into the pay phone. “No more time Fusco.”

“Listen, I ran a two dry runs on this and it took me 20 minutes. Problem is, it ain’t exactly dry this time.”

“We need to go.”

“Look, I’ll be there, just hold that boat.” He hangs up and glances back to Nathan and Harold, who continue to whisper-argue like an old married couple over the weather chart. Carter is nowhere to be seen, most likely just gone to the break room for something to eat, but he wishes he knew for sure. Her words still echo. He did swear an oath back then, an oath he felt all the way down to his core. His own stomach twists at the thought, but he’s long past the point of no return.

He types the sequence he was told into the computer and inserts the USB Simmons gave him. After a moment, a large red button to pop up on screen. 

**[INITIATE SEQUENCE?]**

Lionel takes a last furtive looks at his bosses. Finding them still occupied, he presses the button before any more seeds of doubt blossom.

A countdown begins from 20 minutes.

“I gotta appointment with the john, but I set a system check to go off in in a few. Might mess with a few things but bounce right back.” Nathon doesn't look up, just waves his hand as if to say “fine, fine” and returns to point something out to Harold . 

Fusco syncs his watch to the timer, patting his jacket pocket against the faux Barbasol can. 

There’s no going back now. 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Sauropod Plains, Sector 4, Jurassic Park] _

 

“We need to go back,  _ now _ ,” Leon tries again, eyeing the ominous black clouds rolling in over the mountain.

A cold wind has started, whipping the long grass around and goosebumps bloom on Shaw’s skin. “I hate to agree with the man, but I think he’s right. This storm is going to smack us hard.”

Reese squats near the ground, oblivious to the plea, focus set on examining berries dug out of a truly massive pile of animal droppings only moments ago.  “I think I want to stay out just a bit longer with Dr. Harper,” he says, standing. “You take the kids back, I’ll catch up later.”

“Fine,” Shaw says, glancing across the way towards the rest of the group. Root and Claire stand awkwardly by as Harper gives the animal a rather intimate rectal exam, Gen looks squeamish but also fascinated. It’s an odd crew that Shaw’s getting a bit too weary to deal with but doesn’t seem to have any further options. “You owe me though.”

“I’ll buy you a funnel cake at the midway,” John throws over his shoulder, before returning his attention to the plants.

“We’re getting out of here,” Shaw turns, announcing to the group. The kids whine lightly but Leon seems fully thrilled to fall in line as they make their way back to the SUVs. 

“How long do you suppose the storm will last?”

Shaw looks to her left where Root has settled into stride beside her.

“I’m not a meteorologist,” Shaw gruffs as she opens the door and climbs into the driver’s seat of the rear SUV. 

“That’s right,” she says. “You’re a paleontologist.” Root makes her way around, sliding in on the other side. “What makes a person want to do that exactly? Live your life devoted to a world that doesn’t exist anymore?”

Maybe it’s the dissipation of the teasing lilt, maybe she’s just tired, but for whatever reason Shaw gives in and answers. “It always seemed like it make more sense than this world,” she shrugs. “People are…” she pauses, shakes her head. “There are things I don’t get. Don’t want or need either. Back then, 65 million years ago, people weren’t even a factor. And things just made more sense. I guess the more I learned the more it seems like some place I’d rather be.”

Shaw has said this to others, over the years, with varying reactions. She’s not sure what she expected from Root, but the open look of interest, maybe even understanding is… definitely different. 

The first few raindrops start to fall on the windshield, a rumble of thunder in the distance not far behind. It’s only a few moments until the storm rolls over head, downpour starting in earnest. “Looks like it’s going to be a rough ride back,” Shaw hums.

“Guess we’ll just have to cozy up and ride things out together then.”

Shaw snorts, amused. And we’re back to this. “Are you normally this forward? Or is this just an obnoxious mathematician thing?”

Root simply smiles and shrugs and begins humming a tune as the sky darkens above them. Shaw doesn’t comment further, but suppresses a further eye roll when she recognizes the hummed melody as certain calculus themed pop song. 

_ What a dork _ , she thinks as the rain starts to fall, the thought carrying far more amusement than she expected. 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Control Room, Visitor Center, Jurassic Park] _

 

Harold’s relief of having the guests back in the SUVs is short lived. Only a few minutes later the computers start to elicit buzzing noises of emergency, windows of warning suddenly populating on the screen. 

“What’s happening?” Nathan says, Harold’s fingers flying over the keys in the few short moments it takes him to cross the room. 

“I’m not sure, something is shutting down systems. Fences. And some of the doors inside as well.” 

“Are the raptor fences down?” Carter pipes in, body tensed and ready for action in a way that serves as a reminder of the life their games keeper had prior to joining them. 

“No, so far it’s just affecting certain ones.” Harold looks to Lionel’s area and, finding it unoccupied, heads over. He frowns as he sits, having to clear away a few papers and turn the monitors back on for some reason. When he does, his frown only deepens. 

“Some sort of bug…” he mumbles to himself, only vaguely aware of Carter and Nathan standing behind him. “I wonder if I…” they types a few exploratory commands in and immediately a large box pops up locking out his access. Harold tries a few more commands, each entrance met with an obnoxious buzz sound of error. 

“I’m not sure what it is he’s done, but it’s most definitely on purpose,” Harold says. 

He continues to try commands but Nathan isn’t about to wait. He whips around to Carter, “Find Fusco. Check everywhere.”

Carter marches off face angry as though she’s been duped as well, and Nathan turns back to Harold. “How bad is it?”

He pauses, looking up at his friend. “Let’s hope she finds Mr. Fusco soon.” 

They both unconsciously eye the weather monitor screen at the other side of the room, the tendrils of the twisting cyclone just making landfall over the other side of the island. 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Sector 5, Service Road F, Jurassic Park] _

 

Everything is going exactly to plan. 

With the doors and cameras offline, he was able to snag all the embryos, deposit them into the container, and make his way to the last gas jeep completely undetected. The weather’s making travel treacherous but as he pushes open the final gate across the rapidly-washing out road, the end is near.

Three miles to go. Three miles and he and Lee can start again together, without having to watch their backs. 

The thought still hangs heavy with him when the thing runs across the road in front of him. 

Lionel swerves and the Jeep fishtales, tires spinning slick on the river of mud. He regains control just in time to slam into the signpost at the junction at which point everything stills, stops. The only sound is ragged breaths and the rain pelting incessantly at the truck’s roof and Lionel blinks, getting his bearings and catching his breath. 

Whatever darted across the road should have been in a pen. He told Simmons to tell whoever programed the bug not to shut the paddock fences down. He’s been listening to Carter and Finch whine about safety for enough months to know what these things are capable of. It’s bad enough he’s got stealing on his conscious, he really does not need to condemn people (both innocent guests and people’s he’s grown to begrudgingly sort of care about) to that kind of danger. Yet it’s now obvious the power outage, Lionel’s power outage, has done just that. The idea makes his stomach drop at the implications of those still on the island.

They’re screwed if these things get out, everyone is in danger. Carter, Finch...

The kids. 

The kids are probably stuck out on the fucking tour still.

He shakes the idea away. He has his own kid to worry about. A kid that may not have a father if he doesn’t get this done. 

As much as he tries stay in that mode, he finds himself unable to. He focuses on the a task at hand instead, turning over the engine and backing the Jeep up until it’s poised at the crossroads once more. He doesn’t need the road sign to know where he is. One path heads towards the cliffs, a long, winding trail that loops around the island before returning to the Visitor Center and Command Central. The other leads to the docks, to Simmons and his crew. To Lee, and their new life together as a family once more. 

If he does get to the boat though, if he leaves these people behind, what kind of father would be returning to his son? 

Lionel sits. The rain pounding down, time ticking away for him to make a decision. The dock is three miles away. Just three. 

“You're a real piece of work” he growls to himself before pulling the steering wheel hard to the right, and speeding off.

 

*_*_*_*_*


	6. Chapter 6

*_*_*_*_*

 

_ [Safari Trail, Sector 4, Jurassic Park] _

 

Shaw sits behind a wheel that steers itself as they make their way slowly back to the Visitor’s Center. When they’d returned to the vehicles she chose to return to the second car with Root. It would be easy to say the decision was about avoiding the kids’ incessant questions, but she knows she’d be lying. 

Root is annoying, in that flirty, know-it-all way that’s normally completely unbearable. But there’s also something behind the obnoxiousness, or underneath it, that Shaw can’t stop being drawn in by. Something that she clearly, though she’s loathe to admit it, wants to investigate further.  

The SUVs whir along in the dark, rain and wind whipping about them. They’ve sat in silence for quite a while now, though not an uncomfortable one. 

Normally people fidget in these situations, shuffle around like the quiet is a heavy blanket they're struggling under the weight of. Root is not struggling and maybe that’s part of the “quality” that makes Shaw want to look closer. Because Shaw doesn't struggle either, not like that. 

Most people can’t idle. They’re like diesel trucks, perpetually in a state of shifting from stop to first gear and stalling out when there’s not enough fuel. Root though seems to idle like the electric vehicle they sit in now, quiet but ready at a moment’s notice, just waiting for further instruction. 

“So, why study chaos?” The words come out before she means them to, but here she is anyway.

Root shrugs, but keeps her attention ahead. “When I was younger, I learned the universe is infinite and chaotic and cold. I wanted to understand why.” 

“And?” 

Now Root turns to her, “And what?”

“And, what did you discover.”

“You want me to spoil the surprise?”

Shaw huffs, rolls her eyes, and turns back to look out at the road ahead. She rests a hand on the bottom part of the steering while, wishing she had more control at the moment. She can feel the heat of Root’s gaze on the side of her face.

“My friend was kidnapped,” Root starts, the lilt of flirting having faded away. “We were at the library at night. I watched her get into a man’s car and then she was gone. I told people, no one believed me. She was just gone. ” 

There’s a hard edge of the pain bellying Root’s words as she continues, dulled from time and overuse. “Chaos has always been there, humans just brought it to a new level. We fight and fuck like all animals, the only difference is we have the brian power to do it on a monumentally more impactful scale. It’s human nature to both create and destroy, and we do a terribly fantastic job fulfilling that duty.”

The SUV glides along through the giant gates from earlier and Shaw finds herself thankful to have geographical bearings at least, considering she’s still not sure where things are going inside their car.

“Finch’s work,” Shaw offers. “Is that why you like it? As an example how science is going to be some sort of catalyst to fuck the world up even more? 

“No,” Root says, quietly. “Humans are flawed, it’s coded into our very existence. Harry is learning how reprogram that, to alter our DNA, to change it. His work, the work he’s really doing behind Nathan’s flashy park’s facade is the next step in evolution towards editing out some of those defects. He’s going to build something better than humans.” Root says, conviction steadying her voice, “The chaos is just the price we pay for that evolution.”

As if on cue, the car stops and the interior of the SUV powers off. Shaw raises her hand off the steering wheel as if she caused it somehow. “What did I press?”

Root looks at the console, presses at it. “Nothing, electricity just shut off.”

Shaw looks to her left, rubs her hand across the fogged window, looking out. “Looks like we stopped in front of the T-Rex paddock.” She can barely make out the goat from earlier, still chained but now kneeling down under a nearby tree trying to shelter itself from the storm. “They’ll probably send someone to out to get us. Could be a while though.” 

When Shaw turns back to Root, she finds all traces of that earlier vulnerability submerged under the surface once more. “Any suggestions what we could do to occupy ourselves until then?” the woman says, all teeth and intent. 

Shaw leans in towards Root’s face, delighting in the way the other woman’s eyes dilate in excitement… before grabbing the flashlight at Root’s feet. 

“I’m going to go check on the other car,” Shaw says, pulling back to her own space and trying to keep the grin off her face at Root’s amused disappointment. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Kiss kiss to you too,” Root quips, slouching back in her chair casually.

Shaw rolls her eyes and pops out into the rain, hoping it’ll cool her off some. 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Control Room, Visitor Center, Jurassic Park] _

 

“I’m going to kill Lionel. I will kill him,” Nathan mutters, futzing with the phone on the wall, still dead. Harold ignores him, laser focused on the computer. 

John paces behind him, trying to keep his anxiety down. He’d returned to the control room earlier, dropped off by Dr. Harper who then sped off to catch the last of the evacuation ferries off island. 

It’s tense and quiet, making Carter’s bustling return all the more startling. She bursts through the doors, stride fast and purposeful, a woman on a mission. “No sign of him,” she announces to the room, tone gravelly with anger.

“Ughhhh,” Nathan groans, slamming the phone receiver back in the cradle. He walks over to the desk where Harold sits, fingers flying over the keyboard, gaze unblinking. On screen is a mass of incomprehensible commands that scroll by quickly as he futilely examines each one of them.

“Are we getting anywhere with these procedures of yours? I mean, what's hanging us up?” John asks, worry edging in on his tone. There are no windows to the outside, but he remembers the dark clouds rolling in fast as they pulled up. That was almost a half hour ago. 

“I’ve run a key check on every stroke Mr. Fusco entered,” Harold hums. “It’s all fairly benign until this.” He points at the screen, and the others edge a bit closer to see. 

" ‘Keycheck /space -o keycheck off safety -o’. He's turning the safety systems off here. He doesn't want anybody to see what he's about to do. Now look at this next entry. ‘Good.Samaritan.obj.’ Whatever that it, it has been uploaded to the system. That’s the cause of this all. However, with the Key Check off however, the computer didn't file the keystrokes. So now our only way to find them now is to search the computer's lines of code one by one.”

“How long would that take?” John asks. 

“To go through several million lines of code? Years.” Harold says gravely. 

“That all?” John’s attempt at levity seems to fall flat, garnering a lone raised eyebrow from Harold. “So what now?”

Harold looks to Nathan, who stands, loosening his tie. The motion is jerky, and betrays more frazzled energy than his words. “We’ll figure it out. This is just a delay,” he says, though whether he’s trying to convince himself or others it’s unclear. “All theme parks have delays.”

“Yeah but when DIsney breaks down, you don’t have to worry about Mickey eating the guests.”

Nathan turns, addressing Carter. “Joss, can you please go and get my children.” 

Carter nods, looks almost happy to be able to take some action finally. She stalking over to a tall filing cabinet, she opens it to reveal a row of rifles and supplies. She grabs one, checks the barrel and loads it. “I’ll take the jeep Harper left.”  she says, racking the chamber. 

“I’m coming with you,” John adds quickly, moving to join her.

“I’m not sure that’s nec-”

“-Thank you,” Harold interrupts his partner, giving him a pointed look. “We’ll stay here, keep trying to get through.”

Carter nods, handing a large flashlight to John before they both disappear through the doorway. Nathan stares after them and it’s only after Harold has said his name twice does he blink through the haze and back to reality and turn back to his friend.

“Nathan,” Harold says, voice quiet and serious as ever. “I’m not sure we can get Jurassic Park back online without Lionel Fusco.” 

 

*_*_*_*_*


	7. Chapter 7

*_*_*_*_*

 

 

_ [Tyrannosaur Paddock, Sector 3, Jurassic Park] _

 

Shaw jogs back through the rain from the front car to the rear one once more. She hops in, shutting the door quickly, and lets out a sigh. 

“Their radio’s out too,” she says, slicking wet hair back out of her face. “Leon says we should just stay put.” 

“How are the kids doing?” Root asks, checking her phone once more. No service.

“I didn’t ask.”

Root raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Shaw huffs. “Why wouldn’t they be okay?”

She shrugs, half heartedly, “Kids get scared.”

“What’s to be scared about? The power went out, big deal.” 

“I didn't say  _ I _ was scared,” Root says, a little indignant.

“I didn't  _ say _ you were scared.” Shaw shoots back.

“I know.” 

“Fine.”

Root turns and looks out at the driving rain, and the fence that stands between them and the Tyrannosaur paddock.  

Back in the other car, Gen opens a case in the trunk and inside is a helmet with goggles attached. She puts it on, flicking the switch on the side. “Cool! Nightvision!”

“Hey kid, where’d you get that?” Leon intones, cracking one eye open to peer at her. He’s reclined the front seat, settled down for what he anticipates is going to be a long, annoying evening. 

“A case in the back,” Gen answers, peering towards the paddock, darkness lit up in fluorescent green with the goggles. 

“Is it heavy?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s expensive, put it back.” He closes his eyes once more. He didn’t want to be here this weekend, he wanted to be in Cancun. Maybe the weather would have been bad there too, but the company and the activities would’ve been a little more adult.

Back in the other car, Root has her chair reclined as well, thoughts also turned to things a little more adult. She watches as Shaw opens the door, holding her canteen out to the rain, letting it fill for a few seconds, before closing the door once more. Shaw takes a swig, and after noticing Root watching her, holds out the canteen. Root shakes her head, but licks her lips all the same. A different type of thirst on her mind.

“So… you and Dr. Reese. You’re not-“

“-Gross, no.” Shaw retorts, a bit too quick to be convincingly nonplussed. She’s still staring straight ahead, though the world beyond the windshield just appears as a washy blur.

Root smiles slightly, finding the ever-so-slight waver in composure enormously endearing. And encouraging. “I’m asking,” Root says, turning towards Shaw, and leaning in slightly. “Because I find you interesting.” She leans over a bit further, “Because I’m interested, in you.”

Shaw turns her head slightly at this, her face closer to Root’s than she realized. This is becoming a thing it seems.

“And I was wondering,” Root poses, inching even closer. “If you might be interested in me too?”

Shaw wonders when the car got so muggy, the windows have even started to fog. She’d like to move to crack the door open, let out a little of this steam but she doesn’t want it to look like a retreat. There’s something about Root, from the way her eyes have tracked Shaw’s every move since they met, to the way she’s staring Shaw down right now. It’s predatory, a blatant show of dominance, and if this were the animal kingdom they’d have either fought or fucked by now. 

But it’s not the animal kingdom, and Shaw knows that they exist in a world where actions come with consequences and baggage that she’s just not interested in. She also realizes that she’s been silently staring back at Root for far longer than someone not interested would be.

Root’s graz dips to Shaw’s lips and back up again, without apology. It would be easy, they have time to kill, and god knows it’s been a while since the last time Shaw has indulged. She on the cusp edges forward to accept the invitation, but then a different sensation vibrates through her.

_ BOOM _ .

“Did you feel that?” Shaw asks, eyes darting to the window, body halted where it is.

“Shaw...” Root husks, taking one finger alongside Shaw’s chin, turning their faces back towards one another.

The way her name sounds, the way Root’s voice has thickened, shoots something through Shaw that she didn’t expect, and she kinda likes it. Root leans in and Shaw’s ready to just give in to it, when she feels it again.

_ BOOM _ .

“There it is again!” Shaw hushes, this time jerking back from Root to look out her window. Beside her, Root exhales slowly, body sagging in defeat. She slumps back to her chair.

_ BOOM _ .

This time Root feels it too. She sits up abruptly, mood shifting to match Shaw’s vigilance. “Okay, yeah, what the hell is that?”

Back in the other car, Gen has ditched the night vision goggles and is now fixated on the glass of water in the cup holder.

_ BOOM.  _

_ BOOM.  _

The vibrates create concentric circles in the water, rhythmic and growing stronger. “What is that…” Claire whispers, fear edging in slightly.

“M-Maybe it's the power trying to come back on?” Leon ventures, loosening his tie slightly. He’s intimately familiar with how dangerous things can be at the park, he’s read enough about it including the recent accident, and now his imagination is running wild with it. 

Gen puts the goggles back on, and looks out towards the paddock area. The goat that was tethered there is now gone, the chain swings absently in the wind. “Where’s the goat?”

_ BANG! _

All three of them jump as the object lands on the Plexiglas roof and Claire lets out a high pitched scream at the sight of the bloodied, dismembered goat leg that’s landed there.

“Oh, Jesus.  Jesus.” Leon mumbles to himself, panic gripping him hard. 

Gen’s mouth drops open, watching through the goggles as a clawed arm drags down through the fence cables, which are supposed to be electrified. She follows the arm up, and up, until she’s looking through the roof of the SUV. That’s when she finally sees it.

Tyrannosaurus rex.

Everything about the beast speaks to its status as an apex predator and at twenty-five feet high, it’s clear humans are no longer at the top of the food chain. Gen, Claire, and Leon all watch in horror as the terrifying carnivore tilts its head back and swallows the remaining dregs of goat hanging from its jaws.

Leon doesn’t have to see any more. He clamors for the door, wrenching it open and takes off running into the rain.

“Oh my god, he left us.” Claire gapes. “He friggin’ left us!”

Leon scrambles, trying his best to keep his feet from slipping out from underneath him, and heads towards the makeshift construction area across the way.

Root and Shaw watch Leon careen across the muddy road, all but crashing through the door of the small outhouse off the side of the road. 

“What’s his problem?” Shaw mumbles, brow furrowed.

“When you gotta go, you gotta go,” Root shrugs, before turning back to gaze out her window once more. “It’s-” she stops mid sentence, eyes wide, mouth ajar, frozen. Shaw wonders if she’s glitching until she follow’s Root’s eyes to the sight just outside the car. 

“Oh... fuck.”

The T-rex steps through the opening its made in the fence and into the road between the two vehicles. Rain slicks down it’s body, making it glint in the almost pitch blackness, and truly this was a King Tyrant Monster. 

“Keep absolutely still,” Shaw speaks evenly, trying to steady her own nerves. “It’s vision is based on movement.”

 

*_*_*

 

“ _ Oh god, oh god, oh god _ ,” Claire chants, wide unblinking eyes staring at the dinosaur standing just behind the SUV. Behind her, Gen is scrambling through the boxes in the trunk before giving a triumphant “Ah ha!” and pulling out a gigantic flashlight. “Maybe we can scare it away with this?” Claire nods and Gen turns it on, shining it out the back window. 

The T-Rex’s head whips towards the light to investigate. WIth a lumbering BOOM, it steps closer, peering at the light, before letting out a deafening roar at them.

“Turn it off! Turn it off!” Claire screeches. 

“I can’t!” Gen yells back, fumbling with the switch. The on button cycles the light through other settings: pulse, flash, strobe. Claire grabs at it and they both fumble with it until it finally turns off. There’s a moment of success when both girls look at each other and smile.

Until they look up, through the SUV’s plexiglass ceiling, just in time to see the T-Rex’s jaws descend to devour them.

 

*_*_*

 

Shaw is frozen in place, less by fear and more awe, and also by sheer disbelief at what she’s seeing. The T-Rex’s snout plunges down, slamming into the plexiglass and separating the it from the roof. The kids are on their backs in the rear seats, bracing the plastic sheet between their feet, trying to fend off its snapping jaws. After a few moments, unable to reach its squirming prey, the Rex changes tactics, stepping back before slamming the side of the car with its head.

Two more slams and the SUV rolls over. The Tyrannosaur braces a foot on the overturned vehicle, the weight of it pressing it further into the muddied road. It proceeds to tear into the under chassis to get to Gen and Claire now trapped inside. 

Through the wind and rain, through bending twisting metal, the children’s screams reach her ears, totally breaking the spell and thrusting her into action. 

Shaw spins around, diving into the trunk of the SUV and searching for the box she’d noticed earlier. It only takes her a moment to find the item in question and popping the top of the kit, she finds exactly what she’d been hoping for. 

Grabbing a flare from the roadside kit, she strikes it. Somewhere in her consciousness she is vaguely aware that Root is yelling at her, but she’s out of the car and into the rain before it can register. 

“HEY!” she yells at the beast, running half the distance between, waving the flare. The Rex turns, catching sight of the moving light and abandones the SUV for Shaw instead. 

Shaw makes slow waves with the flair and steadies herself as the Rex turns more fully and stalks towards her. Ridiculously, Shaw’s first thought is of her father. He’d taken her to the National History museum in New York when she was six or so. She remembered seeing the T-Rex skeleton there and wanting so badly to hop the barrier, to stand next to it’s leg and measure herself against it to really see how big it was. Just to imagine it towering over her in real life.

She stares up as it approaches and knows that no part of her childhood imagination could have really prepared her for what this was like, for the sheer enormity and horror of this creature. 

She steadies herself as it approaches and when it’s 50 feet away, she throws the flare to the side, stilling her body after, and miracle of miracles, the Rex falls for it, follows the light to the side. 

She’s about to run to the kids when something from behind her catches her eye. It’s Root, outside the car, the other flare in her hand.  _ The fucking dumbass _ . And Shaw’s not the only one that sees her. 

The Rex has abandons Shaw’s flare for the new one, Root’s one. “ROOT! FREEZE!” Shaw yells. “If you even think...” she mumbles to herself. 

“GET THE KIDS!” Root yells back over the rain and proceeds to run the opposite direction, run towards the temporary construction building near the roadside. The Rex follows, tracking her movements. She moves too much though because when she throws the flare, it follows her instead. She’s through a patch of trees, almost to the building when the Rex lunges. Trees splinter like toothpicks, exploding onto Root, burying her in debris. The Rex slams into the building as well, walls falling like a dollhouse and almost comically revealing Leon, who had taken shelter there earlier. Shaw swallows hard as the lawyer screams, but she can’t make herself turn away as the Rex leans down, devouring him in one bite.

Shaw runs, rushing to the other SUV now that she has the chance. She has to lay on her stomach in the mud to reach the kids trapped underneath, the overturned SUV crushed to the point where the doors are almost touching the ground. Claire is easy enough to pull out but Gen’s foot is stuck underneath. Her small face is smudged with blood and muck, and she cries for Shaw to do something,  _ please _ .

“It’s going to be okay, I’m going to get you out,” Shaw says and the scene suddenly hits her, echoing so hard from own own past that she tastes blood in her own mouth.

_ Overturned car, her father dead behind the wheel, firefighter pulling her out.  _

Claire’s scream wakes her though and Shaw leaps up, wrapping the girl up from behind and covering her mouth with her hand. “Don’t move,” Shaw whispers in Claire’s ear. “It can’t see us if we don’t move.” 

The girl is trembling like a leaf but nods. Shaw keeps her hand over her mouth just in case.

The T-Rex, back for more, lowers its snout only feet in front of them and sniffs. Shaw can feel it’s breath on her face, hot and wet, even through the pouring rain. It smells like a butchery, and she tries not to think about why, about Leon, Root.

The animal snorts a blast of air against them and Claire all but bites Shaw’s hand trying to hold back a scream. She manages though and they both hold still, until the Rex baps the end of the car. 

It hits its head against the tail of the car, spinning it, and forcing Shaw and Claire to spin with it, to follow it around until they are on the other side trapped between the vehicle and the cement barrier. 

Shaw looks over the barrier behind them now and down the sheer concrete wall to the jungle floor 40 feet below. In front of them, the Rex continues to nudge at the SUV, pressing it further and further towards the barrier. It’s clear they’ll be pinned soon. 

“Get on my back,” Shaw says, whipping around so Claire can climb on. The girl wordlessly wraps her arms around as instructed, piggyback style. Shaw takes hold of one of the thick metal cables, the ones that formally formed the electric fence, now severed and hanging down. Grasping it, she steps over the concrete barrier, places her feet on the wall, and begins to repel them down slowly. 

Above, she can see the SUV, pushed further until it’s flush with the side of the barrier- where they’d been only moments before. Except it’s not staying there.

There’s a BANG, the Rex slamming into it, working to tip the SUV over the cement barrier and it’s clear Shaw is not going to be able to get them to the bottom before it comes flying down on top them.

“Claire, grab the other cable!” Shaw yells, indicating the other loose cable a few meters to her right. Working to side-step them, Shaw tries to build some momentum in hopes that they can grab it and hold themselves out of the way when the car falls. Shaw scrambles to the left, then right. 

Claire reaches but misses. “I can’t get it!”

“You can!” Shaw says, scrambling back only to push further, “Grab it!”

Another miss. 

Above the SUV is half over the edge, teetering and Shaw knows this is their last chance, before it comes down and takes them with it. “One more, ready?” 

Shaw pushes off, as hard as she can to the side and this time Claire’s fingers reach the cable, wrapping around and anchoring them to the side just in time to watch the SUV topple over into the tree line below. 

Claire gives a muffled sob.

“It’s okay,” Shaw says, trying to infuse conviction into her tone. “She might be okay.” Whether or not Claire believes it, the girl suppresses her noises, leaving Shaw free to focus on the task at hand. 

It takes several minutes to climb down with the cable slippery, as Shaw’s blistered and bloodied hands can attest. At the bottom is a drainage sewer, about 6 feet tall in diameter and leading back into the concrete wall. It’s shelter enough for a moment so they head over to stand just inside it. 

Shaw listens intently for anything. A crunched leaf, a broken twig, a rustle in the darkness that might indicate danger is still clear and present. 

“What do you hear?” Claire’s voice is barely a breath it’s so hushed.

“Nothing but the rain.” Shaw should wait longer, just to make sure, but Claire isn’t the only child in danger right now.

Gen’s still out there. 

The tree the car is lodged in is about 20 feet away. Shaw moves to head out towards it but is stopped by Claire, who grasps her arm, pulls in, and clings like a Koala. “HE LEFT US.” She says, still talking about Leon for some reason. 

_ Kids get scared sometimes _ . Root’s words echo a grumbling reminder in the back of her brain.

“He did, but that’s not what  _ I’m _ going to do,” Shaw says, even and quiet, like talking to rabbits back on the farm. “I’m going to that tree, right there. That tree, okay? You’ll be able to see me the whole time.”

It’s a lie and a very transparent one, but Claire’s fingers loosen their grip, just a bit.  “I’m going to be right in that tree. I’m going to find your sister,” Shaw repeats, placing a hand where Claire’s is on her arm. “Just stay here.” 

Claire lets her hand be removed and nods. Keeps nodding actually, like a bobblehead figure on repeat. The girl is still absolutely terrified, just barely holding it together, and that’ll have to do for now. 

Shaw doesn’t appreciate just how massive the tree is until she’s right up on it, and then climbing the forty or so feet to the middle where the car has landed seems even more daunting. 

It’s hard to say if the rain has slowed or if simply the canopy of the foliage is protecting them, but she’s grateful. Her hands are already torn up form repelling her and Claire down the cable, and climbing wet bark isn't exactly easy. 

Picking her way up, branch by branch, Shaw thinks of when she was ten. Her family was at a military base in Tennessee, just for three months, and the kids there would hang out in the woods nearby.

Bobby Templeton dared she couldn’t climb to the top of “Old Grand”, the tallest of the imposing redwoods on the base. He said she couldn’t climb because she’d get scared. She proved him wrong of course, on all accounts, but someone snitched and soon the fire trucks arrived. Her mother was furious at absolutely everyone. Shaw hasn’t had much inclination for tree climbing since. 

She approaches the SUV carefully. It’s positioned bumper straight down at the ground, a particularly large limb has stopped it dead in its tracks, but that isn’t going to hold forever.

She’s not sure what she expected to find when she comes up to the driver’s window, but finding Gen, hugging her knees, is more than she could have hoped for. The girl’s blonde curls are slicked down by the rain, except for one darkened brownish-red spot on her temple. 

“Hey,” Shaw says, aiming for gentle but just sounding odd and quiet. “Are you okay?”

“I..” Gen swallows roughly. “I threw up.” 

“Oh. Uh. That’s okay,” she says awkwardly. Talking to children has always been a bit difficult for her, even when she was one herself. “That’s normal, it happens when you’re scared.” 

“Did you throw up too?”

“No, but I’m not that normal.” 

Shaw opens the door, folds it down and climbs part ways in, offering a hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. It’s not stable.” 

Gen shakes her head, eyes wide. Curls matted down by blood and rain.

“It’s okay,” Shaw says, an outright lie at this point. Slowly, shaw moves a bit further and even that shift in weight brings a worrisome groan from the metal underneath her.  She stretches out her hand. “We got this.”

Slowly, the girl reaches out as well and Shaw takes her hand, guiding them as carefully as possible. As soon as she joins Shaw on the branch outside and glances down, panic sets in fresh. “Oh shit!” and it sounds so funny in Gen’s high pitched voice. “We are high up.”

“Hey, we got this remember. If you can climb ten feet you can climb a hundred. You’ve climbed a tree before right?”

Gen looks up at her, deadpan. “I grew up in a high rise in New York City.” 

The car gives another groan of metal, and this time the bough that’s supporting it bends, shifting the vehicle a bit. It makes Gen jump.

“Well, no time like the present to learn.” Shaw says wryly. “I got you okay?”

Gen nods, serious. “Let’s do it.” They start.

Progress is slow and steady. Despite Gen’s dismissal, she’s fairly proficient with steady hands, making her way as Shaw sets their pace and path just below.

They’re about halfway when the tell tale CRACK splits the air, and Shaw doesn’t even bother to look up to know what’s next. “MOVE!” She barks up at Gen, who’s already gotten the memo and is flying down as fast as she can.

The snapping and crashing overhead gets closer and when Shaw does permit a glance up, she can see they don’t have much time.

“JUMP!” she yells as she let’s go, her knee twinging painfully as she smacks into the ground. Gen lands next to her and Shaw grabs her arm and wrenches the girl as hard as she can, rolling them both to the side as the Jeep slams into the ground where they just were. 

Shaw stays braced over the girl for an extra moment, just to make sure, before rolling off and flopping flat on her back. 

Gen sits up slowly, looking from the car to the tree and back to Shaw. “Well,” she says. “That was a terrible rescue.” 

Shaw closes her eyes and sighs. Kids really are going to be the death of her. 

 

*_*_*_*_*


	8. Chapter 8

*_*_*_*_*

 

_ [Tyrannosaur Paddock, Sector 3, Jurassic Park] _

 

As they approach, it’s clear something is terribly wrong. John doesn’t wait for the car to fully stop even before he’s out, running towards the lone SUV. The doors are open, but no one is inside. When he turns around he sees Carter staring up at the paddock fence, or lack thereof. The pieces fall into place easily. Horror washes down his spine like the hurricane’s rain, sending a shiver down to his bones.

“SHAW!” he cups his hands around his mouth, trying to yell over the storm. Carter gives him a look like maybe this isn’t the best strategy, but whatever expression on his face must make her change her mind. At this point, if the result is the Rex finding him first, let it. Finding Shaw is more important.

_ She’s all he has left. _

His parents died just after he left for college. He’d originally planned to study agriculture, emphasis on botany. His hope was to find innovative new things to grow and ways to do so, to help small-time farmers like his parents. 

After their deaths, that future he’d held so tightly for himself suddenly seemed irrelevant. Adrift, he turned his attention to the past. There was something comforting in tracing plants from today back further and further, piecing together a puzzle of a history detached from his own. He worked backwards, deeper towards a root he isn’t even sure can be found. Bachelor’s, Master's, Ph.D- the University setting felt safe, and part of him knew he never strayed far because it there was no other home to return to anymore. 

He met Shaw at the hotel bar of a conference in Topeka. It was the closest to home he’d been in years. He spent three hours after his seminar drinking until he couldn’t feel the pull of that cold, hollow, pit of loss and loneliness anymore.

That night it was only her intervention that kept him from turning that pain outward, taking it out on an especially obnoxious patron at the bar. She helped him back to his hotel, gave him some water and aspirin, and told him to sleep it off. In the morning he wandered back to the lobby, found her and bought her a coffee.

She offered him a spot at her new dig. “Come dry out in the desert for a bit. Clear your head.” she’d said. “Academia will still be here when you’re done.” 

That was almost a decade ago.

Shaw never pushed, never outright asked about his past, didn’t need to it seemed. John suspected it was a shared understanding knowing of what it’s like not to have roots, to have to dig for them, to look for them 65 million years in the past and further even to find something to connect to. Shaw was his friend, now his family, and he was not about to lose her to the past as well. 

“Shaw!” He bellows into the night.

“Dr. Shaw!” Carter yells as well, flashlight scanning around them. 

Something catches in the light near a trampled makeshift building. Only when John moves closer, does he realize what it is. “I think I found Leon…” he says, swallowing the bile as it rises.

“I think I did too,” Carter says from 15 feet away. “Some of him at least.” 

The wind picks up, palms rustling like the rattle of snake tails like a warning. He’s about to head back, to suggest to Carter to return to camp, when he hears it. A mumble, soft but there, and when he digs through the pile of fronds it’s coming from, he finds her. 

“Get the Jeep!” 

He and Carter work to lift Root, and gingerly lift her into the back of the vehicle. Her self-bandaged leg sticks out over the edge of the trunk awkwardly. She’s barely conscious, in and out, but there is some color left in her face.

“John!” Carter yells from the side and he follows her to the cement barrier at the paddock’s edge. Looking down, he sees it- the other SUV, crumpled and ruined at the base of a tree, fifty feet below. 

“The kids...” she says, voicing his initial thought. 

It takes them five minutes to find the maintenance ladder to climb down the concrete embankment, and John’s attention is pulled between Root and Shaw and the kids. In his mind, he knows if they were in the car when it went over, no one could survive. They have to check though. He has to know.

At the bottom, the SUV is as empty as the first, but this time John finds hope. Three sets of footprints lead away from the wreck. 

Shaw. And the kids. 

Squinting into the darkness, he scans for them, but all thoughts of following are cut short by a rumbling roar. It’s distant but not distant enough and Carter places a hand on his arm. “We need to go.” 

He nods. Triage. He and Carter pick their way back up towards their Jeep and John feels secure in knowing at least the others are alive. If anyone can keep the children safe, at least physically, it’s Shaw. He almost wants to laugh, the irony of telling her just hours ago that she should spend time with them. 

Any amusement slips away when they reach the car though. Root is conscious, wide-eyed and babbling. “Go. We need to go, now!” The words have barely registered before the foliage behind the car breaks, the T-Rex stepping into view. Carter leaps into the driver seat, turns over the engine, and floors it.

The Rex sees the lights, and purses. With each stride it advances on them, the sound of its feet audible as it pounds after them.

“Faster, must go faster,” Root mumbles from the back and when John turns around the animal is practically on top of them. It’s snout is just near the bumper and its jaws snap for them, Root practically leaping into the front seat. She manages to haul her leg far enough in to be missed by the animal, just in time.

“Hold on!” Carter yells, shifting into high gear. The wheels spin on the muddy road, the car fishtailing a moment before finding traction and grabbing the road once more.

They finally begin to gain ground, the monster falling behind and letting out a roar of frustration that vibrates right through John’s chest. 

“You alright?” he asks, as Root tries to settle herself more fully in the backseat once more.

“Yeah,” she nods. “I just… hate being right.” 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Control Room, Visitor Center, Jurassic Park] _

 

Things are out of hand. It’s everything he’d worried about, warned about. This is the exact scenario that has kept him awake at night. 

“She’s fine for now,” Joss says, removing rubber gloves and tossing them. “I gave her a shot of morphine, so that'll be interesting, but she needs to get to a hospital. 

Harold is aware that he’s nodding but of little else. His mind is still whirring, trying to meld reality with his nightmare come to life, to figure out how they ended up here. Out of habit, he turns toward Nathan for reassurance, but finds none. Nathan sits, staring into space. The facade of vitality has crumbled over the hours, leaving him looking wan and spent. A leak has sprung, and his energy, his fight, has slowly drained from him.

He looks as Harold feels, crushed under the weight of responsibility for this.

Until John and Joss returned with tales of escaped dinosaurs, with Ms. Groves’ mangled leg, with information of lost children, he could still hold it at a distance. After though, the horror was inescapable, visceral, unable to be ignored. 

Until then they were still insulated, hiding safely behind their monitors and thick concrete walls. 

Until then, he and Nathan could cling to denial. As they had been. As they always may have.

And that is exactly how we ended up here, Harold supposes.

Decades ago in his doctorate program, when the government became too interested in ‘collaborating’ in his work to take no for an answer, Nathan had proposed a way to help shelter him from them.  

_ “Work with me. We can do great things together now, _ ” he’d said, with a wink and nudge,  _ “And allow you some cover to work on your great things to come. _ ” 

That’s how it was always reframed over the years, that everything was all for Harold. Their projects were designed so that Harold could have the resources, the capital, the cover, to do his own research out of the government and public’s eye.  _ “This is for you- all for you, remember,” _ Nathan would say in their late night arguments, sliding his hand onto Harold’s knee in a reassuring way that never failed to make Harold’s mind stutter. (He knew it was a measured tactic, like most things Nathan did, but part of him didn’t care.) 

Nathan was a tool, a weapon Harold insulated himself with. He would try and reassure himself that a weapon is only dangerous to whom it’s pointed at and Nathan was an effective one. It was Nathan who defended their assets, who wrote the proposals, charmed investors, and wrote the grants. It was Nathan that provided the resources that allowed Harold to keep going, but there were times Nathan ran too far ahead, blazed trails (and burned bridges) without consulting. 

It got worse after the diagnosis came. Suddenly some of that ease, that glibness, was gone and replaced by a note of desperation. The projects he led the company to pursue shifted from science to sensational, from good to glory. Harold tried his best to ignore it, ignore the way Nathan’s once blazing energy had started to buzz uncomfortably, like an old bulb worn from the wattage. 

Nathan was drunk, eyes glassy with booze and promise, when he’d proposed Jurassic Park.  _ “Could you do it, for me? This time, this last time...” _ is what he’d said, blush from the alcohol accentuating the peaked, washed-out color of his skin. 

The project rolled out quickly after that, too quickly. He’d known Nathan to be driven, but this was something else, something other pushing him forward at a reckless pace. Gone was the man making calculated moves to advance things and now resorting to sheer brute tactics. Harold was almost relieved when illness meant Nathan having to return to the mainland. 

It was too late though. As it turns out, using a weapon that’s unreliable, that won’t operate correctly, makes you just as culpable for the damage inflicted as if you’d aimed it on purpose. Nathan's reckless ambition may have pointed them to this moment, but it’s Harold’s own science, his willful ignorance of the consequences, that provided the ammunition. Currently they are under siege, from the war they started, the fallout of their hubris. 

It needs to end _.  _

“We have to reboot the system.” 

Harold’s not sure he vocalized it out loud until Nathans head turned towards him. “What?”

“It’s the only chance we have to flushing out the bug. Total reboot.” 

“There’s no guarantee it will come back,” Nathan says, tone drained of hope in a way too discouraging for Harold to deal with at the moment.

“It’s the only choice we have.” He moves to a large switch on the far side of the room, opening the plastic protective panel. He places his hand on it and looks to Nathan, who nods solemnly in agreement. 

Joss picks up a hefty flashlight from a nearby table, turning it on, and gestures for John to do the same with another. “Hold onto your butts,” she mumbles as Harold flips the breaker over with a defining clank.

The lights snap off. There’s an eerie silence, the ever-present humming of electricity and machines finally quieted, and it feels like they’re all holding their breath. Harold counts to ten silently before flipping the breaker back up.

There’s a faint revving sound in the distance but the lights stay off, the flashlights the only illumination. 

Harold feels a cold drop in his stomach. It didn’t work. He closes his eyes solemnly, until he hears “Look.”

It’s Nathan that says it, from next to Lionel’s computer terminal. Harold heads over and in the corner of the monitor, a small cursor blinks, ready for command.

“It did it, it worked,” Nathan says, and a spark of hope reignites in Harold’s chest. 

“The lights are still off though,” John says, peering into the darkness around them with confusion.

“It must have tripped the main breaker. Someone’s going to have to go to the System Panel bunker and reset it by hand,” Harold concludes, hope flickering a bit at the realization.  

The System Panel bunker consists of a labyrinth of corridors underground where the pipes, wires, and entirety of behind the scenes functioning comes together. It’s a feat just to navigate within it, and that’s assuming one of them can get there. The entrance is located in an area just down the road. Getting there would require going outside, where the storm’s still raging and the unknown monsters they’ve released are lying in wait. 

It’s a very dangerous mission indeed. 

“I’ll go. Not a problem,” Nathan says, tone lightened in a faux way Harold recognizes from board meetings and other necessities of the past. 

_ He can’t be serious _ , Harold thinks but can’t manage to articulate, as he watches his friend casually rolls up his sleeves as if they were preparing to tackle some inane activity like washing dishes. 

It’s not until he moves to pick up a flashlight to head out the door, that Harold manages to get his brain and body to catch up. He stands, placing a hand on Nathan’s arm. 

“Nathan.” Harold meets his eyes, unspoken concern telegraphing between them. 

“Don’t be absurd,” Nathan say to the un-verbalized sentiment. “This makes the most sense and you know it.” 

And the meaning behind Nathan’s reasoning comes crashing down on Harold. Who better to send on a suicide mission than a dead man walking? He can practically hear Nathan say it and holds fast to his friend’s hand. 

Nathan responds with a sigh more weary than sad. “Let me go, Harold,” plea transcending the moment, meaning ricocheting and shattering something within them both. Harold finds he can’t speak, can’t find the words. Instead he sets his mouth into a tight line and he retracts his hand.

“Thank you,” Nathan says, softly. He takes the offered flashlight, holding it awkwardly with two hands at chest level. He moves to say something, stops and finally lands on. “Gen and Claire…” 

“-Will be waiting for you when you return.”

Nathan smiles, sad but full. “I can always count on you, Harold.” 

He moves towards the exit, pausing at the doorway to address the room. “Don't look so grim folks,” he says, with a lopsided smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Head down to the safety bunker. I’ll have the lights back on in just a few.” He gives a sloppy salute, and is gone. 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Jungle, Sector 3, Jurassic Park] _

 

Gen doesn’t remember her mother very well, just bits and pieces, but Claire once said she always used to look on the bright side of things and Gen has tried to do so as well. 

So, on the bright side of things, Claire is being nice to her (because she almost died, but still). 

On the bright side of things, she gets to be one of the first people ever to see dinosaurs in real life! (except the dinosaurs are trying to kill her).

And on the bright side of things she’s getting to spend one-on-one time with someone she’s idolized for years, Dr. Sameen Shaw! (Except Dr. Shaw isn’t… well, isn’t what Gen expected).

The dust had barely settled after they crash landed out of the tree, before Dr. Shaw was grabbing her and Claire up to set out on foot. And it’s not like Gen has ever needed coddling but maybe a minute to recover would have been good? Or an ‘Are you okay?’ maybe? She’s not an expert, but the way that Dr. Shaw didn’t even seem to be ruffled by the events seemed rather weird. Not much like any adult she’s ever met either.

They’ve been walking for what feels like forever now, Dr. Shaw leading slowly with she and Claire right on her heels. The way the paleontologist scans their environment is systematic, clinical, detached almost. It reminds Gen of a robot from one of her favorite Sci-Fi books, or Spock, or someone.

Dr. Shaw stops short, taking them both by surprise. 

“What is it?” Claire asks, and no matter how much her sister has tried to smooth her voice, the waiver of fear is still there. Claire always bragged about not being afraid of anything, so Gen seeing her like this is both satisfying and unnerving.

“This tree will work. We can get up there and be safe for the night.”

“You want me to go back into a tree? Seriously?” Gen asks.

“It’s our safest option, what’s the problem?”

“I just had one of the worst moments of my life in a tree...” Gen tries, now as worried about the scientist’s grasp on reality as her own.

“And the chances of one-uping that are significantly more if you stay on the ground. Out in the open.” Dr. Shaw sighs, like Gen is the one not understanding something here.

It’s Claire that puts a comforting hand on Gen’s shoulder, bends down slightly to look her sister in the eyes. “It’ll be okay. We got you.” The sincerity, the gentleness of her sister’s tone is so rare Gen bites her lip over the emotion that rises.

She nods, “Okay, yeah okay,” and follows Claire to the tree in question. 

Shaw lifts them up to the lowest branch before scrambling up herself, in a rather impressive display of strength. She and Claire follow Dr. Shaw’s lead up another twenty feet or so to a group of large limbs close together.

“We can sleep here until morning,” Shaw says, sitting on the furthest limb, leaning her back against the trunk. “Should be safe until then.”

Claire and Gen look from Shaw to each other. It seems that’s the last word the older woman is to pass down. Claire shrugs at her sister and scrunches down a bit, her shoulder pressed against Gen’s, and leans her head back, eyes closed. 

It reminds Gen of their Sister Nights. The nights when their parents would fight, and Gen would creep into Claire’s room, ask to stay for a bit. Claire would roll her eyes and put up a show, but always pull back the covers and let Gen snuggle in beside her.

They haven’t done that in years, but right now it doesn’t feel so far away. It feels like it used to between them and she can't help but want to savor that. 

“You should sleep,” Shaw says, interrupting her thoughts. When Gen turns her head to look, she finds the doctor still staring blankly out towards the landscape beyond. “We have a long way to go in the morning.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

Shaw turns her head, just slightly. 

Gen pauses, rephrases. “I just mean… it’s like you  _ like _ it here. Like none of this scary stuff bothers you.”

Dr. Shaw looks away, keeps her eyes fixed up at a point beyond when she talks. “I don’t get scared. Or sad. Or lonely or happy. I never have really, as long as I can remember.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, it’s just been this way. I realized it when I was about your age. That I was different.” 

Gen nods. “I was really excited to meet you. I’ve read all your books...” she pauses, thinks before adding. “Maybe someday, when we’re safe, we could talk about your research?”

Shaw blinks slowly, and it makes Gen think of the first computer that Claire made, the way it would take a moment to process before following the command. Finally though, she nods. “Yeah, sure kid. Maybe someday.” 

Gen can’t help but smile. Even though she knows it’s no guarantee, it still means something. “Awesome.” She scooches down further, nuzzles her body into Shaw’s a bit more. The woman’s body stiffens a bit, unsure, but relaxes only a second later. 

Gen closes her eyes. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she says softly. 

Shaw doesn’t say anything out loud but Gen feels like she has. Gen knows now she has to listen to the spaces between the words with someone like Shaw and she falls asleep quickly after that. Her final thoughts are that despite almost being crushed, eaten and crushed again, this might be the best day she’s had in a long time. 

 

*_*_*_*_*


	9. Chapter 9

*_*_*_*_*

 

 

_ [Visitor’s Center, Jurassic Park, Isla Nublar] _

 

They followed Nathan’s instructions, the group moving down to the safety bunker below the Visitor’s center, but no one could seem to sit still after that. Harold was the first to wander off, leaving John to situate Root and fumble around until he got too bored to stay put. 

He heads back up into the building and follows the source of flickering light until it leads to Harold. He’s sitting in the main dining room at the end of a long table, two candles bookending him on either side, staring morosely into the bowl of whatever he’s eating. When John finally pulls up a seat, he notes that it’s in fact ice cream, the five gallon tub he got it from sits in the middle of the table, melting slowly. 

To John, Harold looks like a man who has deflated. His normally rigid posture has collapsed, whatever had been supporting him internally seems to have given out. 

A few moments pass before Finch acknowledges John’s presence, but he still doesn’t raise his eyes to meet the other man’s, even when he speaks.

“Figured I should enjoy what I could, while it lasts,” he mumbles, gesturing vaguely with his spoon.

John nods. “Root’s okay for now. I gave her another shot of morphine.”

Harold finally looks up and meets John’s eyes. “Good. That’s… good.” He tries to give a small smile, but it just looks pained. 

There’s another pause before he adds, “Gen and Claire… I have to believe they’ll be fine as well. After all, who better to get them through Jurassic Park than a Dinosaur expert?”

It’s clear that neither of them feel comfortable in that belief, but John nods slightly in agreement anyway. 

Harold returns his attention to his ice cream once more, taking another small bite, before placing the spoon down in disgust. His eyes fix on the space between the chairs to his left, looking slightly away from John as he begins to speak again.

“My father had Alzheimer's,” he begins quietly. “I grew up watching him fix things; trucks, farm equipment. I was working on my Master’s, focusing on Gene Editing, when things got bad. At the end he didn’t know me, but he still knew how to fix a carburetor,” he smiles sadly.

“After he died, I sold the farm, and focused on my work. I started with sheep, editing genes to effect their size, wool texture, whatever I could to make them most efficient. I told myself that it was so small farms like my father’s could have a fighting chance, but I think even then I knew that’s not what it was about.” 

“Along the way it just seemed par for the course to see what else was mutable. Things that weren’t even relevant like strength, intelligence… those results earned attention from the government though. That’s when I met Nathan.”

Finch smiles wanly. “He convinced me the best way to continue to push the limits but stay off the government radar was to focus on reviving old things, instead of creating new ones. Black Rhinos, Saola, Mountain Gorillas, I was able to use their DNA to bring them back. Nathan and I opened two preserves in Kenya, another in Tanzania, we were keeping species alive for the world, we were doing so much good, and I was able to work on my side projects too. Studying the impact these advancements could have for humans...” 

“This project, Nathan’s project, though,” he chuckles darkly. “I tell people it started as a thought  exercise. Sounds much better than the truth, that it started as a drunken plea. I was just trying to placate him. I said if he could find the DNA, I could do it. I thought it was ludicrous...” He looks to the side a moment. “Nathan showed up three weeks later with the first mosquito trapped in amber, the first specimen.” Harold shakes his head. “I was always so enamored with his charm, the glib ease with which he moved, spoke. Looking back sometimes I wonder how long he had been watching me, planning this, before finally approaching me with it.”

“Nathan always found a way to assuage my concerns. Just the right argument. That the science was going this way anyway, that it’s our duty to take this on, to perfect it and make it safe. That we were the only ones responsible enough to handle that power.”

“This was never going to be safe,” John interrupts. “No one was ever meant to have this kind of power.

“I think part of me has always known that,” Finch nods. “Nathan can just be so…” he chuckles darkly. “It’s not just him though. I had my own motives for pushing the science to and past its limits. I suppose I’ve always thought,” he says quietly, “ if someone else had started it earlier, if I could have saved my father. Changed something, given him more time. Everything I’ve done, has been towards that end. To further the science to that end.”

John reaches over, covering Harold’s hand with his own. Harold looks at it blankly, mouth pulled tight. “I can see it all much clearer now. Now all that matters is getting our friends, our family back safely.”

“Like you said, if anyone can get those kids back safely, it’s Shaw.” John squeezes his hand, before retracting it. “She is going to be pissed when she realizes she missed the ice cream buffet though.”

“I wont tell if you won’t” Finch smiles coyly, raising an eyebrow conspiratorially, causing something long dormant in John’s chest to flutter.

“Deal,” he says, picking up a spoon and holding it out to Harold.

Finch picks up his own spoon, clinking it with John’s. “Deal.” 

John gives a small smile, before leaning over Harold slightly to retrieve his own scoop of ice cream. Harold can’t help his eyes tracking the movement, the details, the small smirk of approval after the bite.  “This is really good,” John says. 

Harold raises an eyebrow, the unsettling irony of what he’s about to say, finally hitting home. “Spared no expense.”

 

*_*_*

 

[ _ Jungle, Sector 2, Jurassic Park] _

 

Claire feels like she’s barely closed her eyes before dawn is cracking over them. 

The jungle looks very different in the daylight. The storm subsided overnight and sun glints off the dew drops and moisture lingering on the foliage. 

They climb down the tree together and her sister’s relief is palpable as soon as her tiny feet touch the forest floor. Claire gives her sister’s shoulder a little squeeze, a gesture of support picked up from their mother years ago, and Gen gives her a little smile.

They haven’t gotten along this well in a long time.

After their mother died, their father was at a loss of what to do, and sent them off to boarding school. He was always working anyway, so it’s not like they saw him less, but it still felt like being cast off in a way. It was like they had lost a home, rather than just a parent. 

Uncle Harold made up for it though. 

He would visit often and sometimes they would go to his house, deep in the Pennsylvanian woods, for the holidays. Harold would work the whole time, but he’d let her and Gen work with him. Create their own lab experiments and projects and play with all the Control animals. Gen favored the chickens and would try and make them laugh with her impressions.

Not to say dad was all bad. Their father may have operated remotely, but he was never fully absent. He made them feel loved. He was jovial, always joked around, and never missed his Sunday night phone call to them. The last couple years though, something changed. Claire assumed it was the cancer diagnosis that made him absent minded, that drained him of some of that life force and energy, but now she can see it was this project. Jurassic Park, this nightmare, was eating him alive and the idea that this was where he chose to focus his energy at the end, makes her so frustrated she could scream. 

She’s done enough of that this weekend though. Now she just has to focus on Gen, because as annoying as her sister can be, she has to protect her. 

Ahead of her, on the trail, Gen trips over something, face planting awkwardly in the dirt.

_ Protect her from herself, _ Claire thinks. “NIce one klutz,” she says, helping her sister up. 

“Whoa! Look what I tripped over!” Gen says, ignoring the comment. “It’s eggs! Big ones!”

This gets Dr. Shaw’s attention, the woman grinding to a halt on the trailhead and doubling back to check. Dinosaurs seem to be the only thing that get the paleontologist's attention. 

Shaw squats down on her haunches for a closer look, gingerly picking up one of the eggs. “It’s a nest.” she says slowly, 

“Awesome!” Gen whoops.

“I thought the dinosaurs were all girls.” And Claire isn’t even sure she’s said it out loud until Dr. Shaw turns her attention her way. 

“They are.”

“Then how…?”

Dr. Shaw looks back at the egg in her hand, turning it over, before chuckling. “Frog DNA.” She shakes her head and actually laughs.

“Frogs?” Gen scrunches her face in question.

“On the tour they said they used frog DNA to fill in the holes. There are species of frogs that have been known to actually ‘change sex’ when populations are low in order to keep procreating. Root was right, life finds a way,” she shakes her head and deposits the egg back where she found it.

The doctor stands, brushing off her hands and looking around once more. 

“What does that mean?” Claire asks, slightly afraid of the answers she’s already started drawing.

“It means all bets are off. We need to get back to the Visitor’s Center and get the hell out of here. Come on.”

They continue their way through the dense foliage, Gen making comments about things along the way, nervously chattering away like she would when their father used to bring them to boring corporate parties. Dr. Shaw leads in front, silent but eyes continually scanning the forest.

They’ve only been walking a half hour or so when they emerge onto a extensive plain. 

In the distance are the mountains, a few low clouds hanging out at the top, jungle creeping down them and stopping on the other side of the plain. They begin walking around the outside, along the tree line for a bit, when suddenly there’s a dull rumbling from what sounds like far away.

“Another storm?” Claire asks, feeling odd doing so because of the blatantly sunny sky. 

Shaw begins to walk out on the plain, squinting at the distance. There’s a cloud of dirt and dust and suddenly a herd of dinosaurs comes into view. It’s hard to tell from this far how big they are though.

“Gen. Quick,” Dr. Shaw snaps her fingers. “What are these, the name?” Her eyes never straying from the group running across the expanse in front of them.

“Gala… Gallimimus!” Gen says, expression swelling with pride. Dr. Shaw rewards her with a matching grin, before leaning down and pointing. “Look at the way they move, at the wheeling - - the uniform direction change! Like a flock of birds evading a predator.”

Suddenly, the animals change direction, the rumble of their foot beats growing louder and closer. Towards them in fact.

“They’re uh… they’re flocking this way,” Claire says, turning the opposite direction and starting to sprint. 

“Stampede!” Shaw yells, and when Claire glances over her shoulder, she sees the doctor running with Gen by the hand. 

Just ahead is a downed tree, all three of them steering for it, scrambling under and bracing against the other side. The stampeding herd leaps over the tree, around it. Turning, the three peek over the log just in time to see what they’re running from. The T-rex lunges out of the tree line, snapping up one of the herd in its jaws, shaking it like a rag doll.

“Look at the way it eats,” Shaw says, almost reverently. 

“Let’s go,” Claire wimpers. “Let’s go now.” And it’s enough to shake Shaw from her from her reverie.  

“You’re right, let’s go,” she says, placing a hand on Claire’s shoulder. 

It takes a moment for Gen to tear her eyes away from the sight. She’s seen gorey things before (their mom had a subscription to HBO, but seeing it in real life…) “So much blood,” she mutters, before Shaw pulls her away. 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Safety Bunker, Visitor’s Center, Jurassic Park] _

 

“Something's happened. Something went wrong,” John mumbles, pacing the length of the bunker once more. 

Ice cream melted and consumed, he and Harold had returned to the bunker to wait. And wait. Dozing on and off at times. John looks at his watch for the hundredth time since he last woke. It’s been what seems like hours since Nathan left. 

Carter, cleaning her gun nearby, sticks a leg out blocking his way. “Stop pacing. You’re making everyone crazy.” She looks around, noting Root’s hazy puzzling at her leg, wound still under the effects of the morphine a bit, and Harold’s still stressed expression. “And we have enough of that around here already.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Harold says, conviction lacking in his monotone delivery. “It’s possible he encountered a few unpredicted barriers on the way. Nothing inherently suspect about that.”

“Yeah, except now these barriers tend to eat the people that encounter them,” Root pipes in. The room turns to her. “What?”

“No, something's wrong,” John says again. “I’m going to go find him.”

Carter catches him by the arm, expression strict. “You can't just stroll down the road, you know.”

“Then help me,” John says back. 

Joss stares at him a moment, deciding on just that before nodding, and lets go of his arm.

“Let's not be too hasty…” Harold says slowly. “He's only been gone-” he looks at his own watch but before he can calculate, the others have moved on. 

Carter walks over to a steel cabinet, throwing it open with a clang and revealing an impressive array of weaponry inside.  She removes a shotgun and what looks like a small rocket launcher. Shoving a shell into the barrel of the rocket launcher, which accepts it with a faint electronic sizzle. She grins, slinging it over her back, “Finally get to take some of the better toys out for a spin.”

Realizing he can’t stop this, Harold moves on as well. “Take the walkie talkies,” he says to John and moves to a horizontal filing cabinet. He retrieves a set of blueprints and moves to the only other semi-flat surface, spreading them out on top of Root, landing hard on her leg.

“Ouch,” she says, squinting at him.

“Sorry,” though neither of them find any conviction in that. 

Harold starts tracing over the blueprints with his finger. “This isn't like switching on the kitchen light, but I think I can follow this and talk you through it.”

“Alright,” Joss says, pumping the shotgun in her other hand. “You ready John?”

John swallows nervously, but manages a fairly confident. “Yes. Let’s go.” He follows at Carter’s heals, pausing by the door a moment, almost where Nathan had hours earlier. “We’ll be fine. See you in a bit.”

Harold only nods, not trusting his own voice, and watches as the two disappear up the bunker stairs and into the horrors above.

 

*_*_*_*_*


	10. Chapter 10

*_*_*_*_*

 

_ [Service Road, Sector 1, Jurassic Park] _

 

“Alright Finch, I’m on Channel two,” John says before tucking the walkie talkie back on his belt. 

Ahead of him, Carter holds a high powered rifle. “Stick to my heels,” she says, scanning their surroundings slowly.

They begin moving down the path and quickly come upon a slightly more open area.  The huge raptor pen stands silently, surrounded and penetrated by jungle, the abandoned feeding lift looming over it like a silent spector. 

Carter slows slightly, John right next to her, when they notice the hold in the fence that surrounds the pen. It looks like it’s been twisted, gnawed, and definitely large enough for an animal to get through.

“Not good,” John mumbles to himself before bringing the radio to his lips. “Finch, we got a problem here.”

“The shutdown must have turned off all the fences. Shit.” She approaches the hold slowly, making a wide berth around to look at the ground in front of it. 

There are tracks, three sets of footprints by John’s estimate, and it’s spooky to see them fresh in the rain-softened ground instead of imprinted in million year-old rock. Spookier still to see them lead into the jungle foliage around them. 

“This way,” Carter says, nodding her head back down the path, but eyes fixed on a bush off to her left. 

John’s eyes follow the path, “I can see the shed. We could run for it.”

Carter shakes her head, “No. We can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because we're being hunted,” she says, eyes not straying from their focal point. “From the bushes, off to the left.”

John’s body freezes at the thought, but he wills himself to turn, very slowly, in that direction. At first, he doesn’t see anything, but then there’s something faint, a rustling, a shadow shifting in a way that doesn’t feel right. 

“It’s okay,” Carter says, moving her gun to her shoulder slowly, deliberately. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t take her eyes away for a moment. “Run, towards the shed.  I've got her.” 

John hesitates when he realizes the implication. That she will be covering him, that she will be staying in danger so he can be safe. 

“On my mark,” Carter says, ignoring the unvoiced dissension. Her eyes cut from the bush just long enough to meet John’s and he can see the decision is made. He begins to inch slowly towards the shed. Carter follows tracking as the shadow in the bushes paces with them as well.

“GO!” Carter yells suddenly and John’s brain glitches, a stuttered step before he sprints all out towards the shed. It’s a real broken field sprint, over branches and puddles, leaves smacking in his face. One foot comes down in a puddle with a  _ crick _ and a stab of pain that he’s going to have to deal with if he makes it. 

The last bit has twenty feet of open space before the door and when he makes it, he turns around, just in time to see Carter walk slowly into the bushes, before he slams the door shut behind him. 

“I’m in,”  he wheezes into the walkie talkie, trying to catch his breath. 

“And Ms. Carter?” Finch’s voice crackles back. 

“Joss is… it’s just me.”

There’s a fitting moment of silence from the other end, understanding transmitted heavily over the line. “I see.”

John rights himself, clears his throat, and starts to descend the metal staircase further into the labyrinth beyond. “Wanna tell me where I’m headed Finch?”

“Yes, of course. Ahead of you should be a metal stairway. Go down it.”

He heads down the stairs and into the room below, passing by an old shelving unit of paint cans. Shining his flashlight ahead, there is a maze of pipes, ducts, and electrical work on both sides of him.

“Okay, I’m at the bottom.”

“After twenty or thirty feet, you'll come to a T junction. Take a left.”

_ “Harry, just have him follow the main cable-” _ Root interrupts over the line. 

“I understand how to read a schematic,” Harold’s annoyance registers as well, making John smile despite his growing nervousness.

“Okay, heading left...” he turns only to find a wall a few meters down. “Dead end though.” 

“Wait a minute, there was a right back before…”

_ “John-” _ Root interrupts over the line.  _ “Look above you. There should be a large bundle of cable and pipes all leading in the same direction. Follow that.” _

He looks above and indeed sees a bunch of cables. “Got it,” and follows it into a main corridor.

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Sector 2/1 border, Central Plain, Jurassic Park] _

 

Shaw and the kids head south across the other end of the field, over a few ridges before they see it. “Must be the Eastern Perimeter fence. We're close,” Shaw says. Gen gapes up at it. The electric fence wires are a tight web almost thirty feet high. The light at the top is off, not red like it was during the tour. Shaw is looking at it too before she picks up a stick, tossing it against the fence to test it. The stick clatters to the ground unaffected, and Shaw takes a step closer to the the wires. Rubbing her hands together, she holds them just over in anticipation. Gen holds her breath.

Shaw places her hands on the wire and immediately starts to shake, convulse, and yelp, eliciting a scream from both girls. 

Shaw stops shaking, and turns around with a grin. “Gotcha,” she says, taping the wires to show they’re harmless. 

“Not. Funny.” Claire huffs.

“Good one,” Gen says, despite her own heart still racing from prank. 

Shaw pulls at the wires, trying to separate them before realizing it’s impossible. She shakes her head. “We’ll just have to climb over it.”

“Over?” Gen gulps. Heights have never been her thing. She's still trying to get over the whole car-in-a-tree debacle from the day before. 

“Don’t be a wuss,” Claire mocks, placing hands on the fence and steps up a few feet. “See, it’s easy. Right Dr. Shaw?”

“Come on, Gen,” Shaw says gently. “Only way through is over.” 

Gen straightens her spine, making her way to the fence next to Claire. She places her hands on it, looking to Shaw for encouragement. Shaw gives her a light nod, modeling her own hands in the same way on the fence in front of her. 

Willed by sheer desire not to embarrass herself infront of her idol, Gen steps up a few feet, level with Claire. 

“Good of you to join us,” Claire mocks as Gen continues to climb slowly.

Gen looks down at her sister from a few feet above. “I bet I can beat you to the top,” Gen mocks.

Claire looks up, a playful smile settling on her features before she begins to climb double time. Gen scrambles to catch up.

 

*_*_*

 

_ [System Panel Bunker, Sector 1, Jurassic Park] _

 

After the first few attempts, directions get more straightforward. John moves slowly through the corridors in the dark, his foreboding growing as he does. 

“Any sign of Nathan?” Harold asks over the walkie-talkie, as John is coming up on their final destination of the control panel.

“No,” John swallows roughly. “Not yet.” 

Harold’s silence speaks volumes.

Root chimes in, thankfully. “ _The cable above, the one you’re following, will terminate in a_ _big, gray box.”_

“Okay, I see the gray box,” John radios, moving through a mesh gate and walking towards the spot in question. “It says ‘High Voltage.’" He pushes the door open even further, revealing a vast array of breakers and switches inside.

“Good,” It’s Finch again now. “You can't just throw the main switch by hand though, you have to pump up the primer handle to give you a charge. It's a large, flat, gray…”

“I see it,” John says, heart beating hard. They’re almost done. 

John pumps the gray handle, which is sluggish.  Above it, a small white indicator CHINGS over from "discharged" to "charged".  John slams the gray lever back into position. “It's charged, okay!”

“Good. Now, under the words ‘contact position’ there's a round green button that says ‘push to close’. Push it.”

He does. The "contact position" light CHINGS over to "closed" and lights start to go on all over the panel.

“Did I do it? Is the power back on?” He watches as a column of twelve white indicator lights  flash on the control panel.  They are clearly labeled, each one for a different area of the park.

“Not yet,” Harold says. “The red buttons turn on the individual park systems. Switch each one on.” 

“Alright,” he says, making his way down pushing one button for each area. “We got this.”

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Sector 2/1 border, Central Plain, Jurassic Park] _

 

“You got this,” Shaw calls up from near the bottom of the other side.

“What took you so long?” Claire sing songs near the top of the fence. She’s already flipped over to the other side, level with Gen going up, and she’s on her way down. 

“It’s not a race,” Shaw chides, now on the ground, but Gen keeps her focus on her sister’s retreating form, happy to bury her fear in sibling competitiveness. At the top, Gen takes a deep breath, steading herself before putting one leg then the other over. 

It’s very, very hard not to look down. She stares straight ahead, focusing on taking it one step at a time. She’s made it about ten feet from the top when the siren goes off.

The red light pulses its warning and the combination startles Gen so badly her foot slips and she’s hanging by just her hands for one terrifying moment before getting her footing once more.

“Gen! Climb down! As fast as you can!” Shaw yells up, and if it weren’t so dire it would be an almost humorous call back to the jeep-in-the-tree issue just the day before. As it is though, she doesn’t think of that. She doesn’t think of anything, she’s just frozen.

“Gen!” Shaw tries again. “Gen you have to move!”

“I can’t!” Gen yelps, though how audible it is over the shrieking warning siren is unclear. 

“Gen.” Shaw’s voice is closer now. Gen peaks an eye open and sees the woman is only five feet from the fence now. “Gen, you’re going to have to jump!”

“Are you crazy?! No way!”

“You have to. Look, I’ll count. One! Two! THREE!” 

Gen doesn’t move. Her heart is hammering in her chest, fingers aching from holding the wire so tightly. She knows she has to go. Get it together she tells herself. “Okay, okay I’m ready.”

“Good!” Shaw calls up, opening her arms. “I’m ready to catch you.”

“Okay, okay,” she says, more to herself than Shaw. “On three! One! Two-”

The fence turns on, the electricity striking her like a bolt of lightning. There’s a moment, just a moment, where she realizes she’s in the air, falling, falling, and then it all goes black.

 

*_*_*

 

_ [System Panel Bunker, Sector 1, Jurassic Park] _

 

John presses the last button marked ‘Sector 1 Perimeter Fence and Aux’. The light above him flickers to life and John feels hope stir in his chest. 

“We have power,” he says into his walkie talkie but the celebration is cut short by a noise behind him. John turns just in time as the raptor slams into fence separating them.

Moving to flatten himself the other side of the cage, he trips over something in the corner as he goes. Hands scrape along the chainlinks as he catches himself and when he looks down, he realizes what it is he’s tripped on.

He catches himself, biting back the bile rising when he realizes what he tripped over. Nathan’s dead eyes are glassy, empty, and John tears his own away from the sight before he can dwell on a possibly shared fate. 

The raptor has almost pulled the fence down completely. John casts around for something to use to defend when he notices the red box to the side. He lunges for the fire extinguisher, fumbling at the nozzle just in time to blast the animal in the face as it lunges for him.

It stuns it just enough for John to roll to the side to pass it. His leg slams into a pole as he does, colliding with a sickening crunch. Pain shoots up but he doesn’t have the courtesy of stopping. He runs, hobbles really, dragging his leg behind him towards the exit. 

He hears the stomping of the raptor’s feet on the grates behind him as he pulls himself up the stairs backtracking the path he’d taken before. Passing by the shelf of paint cans, he pulls them down as he goes. He doesn’t look back, but hears the raptor encounter the obstruction moments later.

It’s almost here.

John reaches for the door handle but, hand slick with blood, and it slips off. He fumbles once more but manages to grab it, tearing it open. Turning, he sees the raptor leap, jaws and claws mid air- 

-as he slams the door shut on it. 

It seals, the impact of the animal making a dull clang behind him. John presses his back against the door and breathes, facing the jungle beyond.

He can’t rest long, not with Carter’s warning echoing crisp in his mind. 

_ They’re hunting us.  _

The pain in his leg is acute, but he has to keep moving. He’s not safe yet. 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Sector 2/1 border, Central Plain, Jurassic Park] _

 

Shaw breaks the fall more than she catches, as Gen’s body rockets off the fence, propelled by the burst of electricity. She rolls over quickly, laying the girl’s lifeless body on the the ground as gently as she can, before checking vitals. 

No heartbeat.

Shaw gives two rescue breaths, trying not to focus on the smell of burnt flesh of the girls’ hands, and starts chest compressions. 

“Come on Gen!” Shaw grits between presses. Somewhere in her consciousness, she registers Claire is sobbing.

“Breathe Gen!” The girl’s chest rises and falls with Shaw’s help, but lays still otherwise. 

Training has taught her CPR is just a placeholder, something to keep the blood flowing to the brain until Paramedics arrive with an AED.  She keeps the statistics, the survival rates, out of her mind though as she continues to try and revive the young girl. The girl whom she’s sort of grown fond of and would rather not lose now or any time soon. 

“Dont. You. Dare. Die-” and this time, when Shaw goes down to breathe, she’s interrupted by a shuddering gasp from Gen. It’s followed by coughs that rack her body, Shaw shifting quickly behind her head, pulling Gen up into a sitting position resting against her. 

Claire is still crying, but wraps her arms around both of them, now sobbing into Shaw’s neck. From below in her arms, Shaw makes out a quiet “Th-Three,” and can almost feel the smile. 

Relief washes over, her chuckle bouncing Gen gently as she tries to sit them up more properly. 

“You okay kid?” Shaw asks, moving around to better assess.

“Another… terrible... rescue...” Gen wheezes, smile just tugging at her lips before she’s racked with another set of coughs.

Shaw gives an affectionate eye roll before moving on to assess the rest of the damage. The burns on Gen’s hands are deep and Shaw doesn’t think twice before ripping off the sleeves of her shirt to form into bandages. Tying them up gently, she helps Gen to her feet, and then realizes she’s should probably provide some sort of emotional comfort as well. 

“You’re hair’s all stuck up,” Shaw decides on, giving the girl’s head a ruffle (a gesture she saw once in a movie). It must work because the girl grins and Shaw feels satisfied enough to move to the next order of business. 

“Someone got the power back on, that’s good. And the Visitor Center is probably only another 10 or 15 minutes that way.” Gen sways a little on her feet and it’s clear what needs to happen next. 

Carefully, and very awkwardly, Shaw manages to stoop down and heft Gen onto her back. This is the second child that she’s had piggy-backing on her in the last 24 hours and as they begin to trek again, and she can’t help but smile and wonder what John will say about that. She holds onto that thought, though part of her knows there is a very good possibility that he may not be alive to find out. 

 

*_*_*_*_*


	11. Chapter 11

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

_ [Safety Bunker, Visitor Center, Jurassic Park] _

 

Harold wants to pace, but the throbbing up and down his spine won’t permit it. He feels trapped in his body, in this bunker, in a nightmare of his own creation.

Across the room Root crunches into a granola bar. The sound ricochets off the concrete walls absurdly loud, cutting through the heavy silence like a gunshot. He turns an annoyed glare her way, which she meets with a raised eyebrow before taking a somehow louder second crunching bite.

He stands, moving to the pile of building schematics that still lay sprawled out across the table next to her. He splays his fingers on the smooth paper and for the twentieth time retraces the path they set John on (set Nathan on as well), nearly two hours ago. Eyes slip closed as he tries to picture the twisted corridors, the pipes and panels, but images of worse scenarios continue to override it. A photo Joss showed him, the photo of what was left of the gatekeeper, is particularly intrusive. 

Harold’s eyes snap open, sensing rather than detecting the proximity. He turns and finds Root just a foot away, the look of concern on her face as surprising as her appearance at his side.  She’s using a broken broom handles as a crutch, keeping her weight off of her damaged left leg, and he fights the urge to chide her for moving it at all. 

“You’re worried they might be dead.”

He lets out a bitter laugh at the bluntness and if not for that odd but genuine look of concern pointed at him, he might find it purposely cruel. “An extremely likely scenario.”

She nods, looking down a moment, almost searching for something to say. When she looks up again, the concern has all but melted away, just the slightest hint remaining bellied by her serious tone.

“What’s our plan then? How do we get you out of here safely?”

What indeed? He blinks down at the papers once more, as if the solution might be there in the blue lines but there’s nothing. Nothing at all. No escape. For him, for his loved ones. 

“There is no plan,” and as he speaks the weight of it finally sinks in, and frustration with it. “Perhaps that’s comforting for you, as part of your philosophy, but forgive me if I don’t celebrate its proof.” He moves to walk away but she catches his arm. By instinct, he rips it back, and is unnerved by the shift in her expression, hardening.

“I am not reveling in this. People are dying.”

“I am well aware…” and the guilt that has been sneaking ever closer is now suffocating. He wishes he were above ground. 

He tries for a full breath, but can’t seem to get one. The bunker suddenly doesn’t seem to have enough air. He places a hand on his chest, as if to steady himself but becomes acutely aware of how shallow and quick the rise and fall is.

“Harold. Harold, look at me.” Root is over in a flash, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. “You’re having a panic attack. Just breathe, okay?”

He shakes his head, because no,  _ he can’t breathe _ . That’s the problem and panic sets in as he starts to get light headed. His breathing is out of his control and if he dies here and now, he can't say that it wouldn’t be a relief.

“Nuh-uh, no. Stay with me,” she says, as if privy to his inner monologue. “Breathe, in and out, squeeze my hands,” She slides them down off his shoulders and squeezes his hands in example. “Now tell me where we are-  _ focus _ .”

“Bunker,” he wheezes, squeezing back in rhythm with the breathing he’s trying to slow.

“Good, now what in the room? Name what you see.” 

He blinks, trying to follow instructions, heart still beating wildly in his chest. “Shelves. Boxes.”

“Describe them. Detail. Sight, sound, smell, any and all of it.”

“Grey walls. Black metal shelving,” He focuses, breathes, searches. “Gun cabinet is still open, schematics on the table…” He swallows and is able to get a single full breathe in at least, the tightness in his chest relieving some. “Boxes filled with repair parts. A green ripped couch … I really should have that thrown out.”

Root chuckles, “Good, good. Now just breathe with me for a bit.” He nods, and tries to sync with her. Slowly but surely he feels like he’s gaining control once more. 

A few minutes pass like that and she drops his hands. Hobbling backwards a few paces, she sits on the table across from him, giving him some space. “Better?”

He nods, unsure of his voice, of what to say as well. 

“Good,” she says, crossing her arms. “Because I could use your help coming up with a new plan.” She grabs a Sharpie marker and starts writing directly onto the stainless steel table behind her. His gut reaction is to stop her, say something about the not being able to get the ink off, but catches himself. 

“Thanks to the big lug we have power, so it’s a matter of getting to the control room to reset the system and-”

“Why are you doing this?” Maybe it’s the oxygen returning to his brain, but the absurdity of the situation has finally set in. The out-of-placeness actions of this woman who’s zealous fervor has lead him to consider her unstable, edging on threatening at times. 

It’s a question he should have asked when Nathan first told him she was invited. It’s a question he should have asked years ago, when she first started contacting him, trying to invite herself into his personal project. And later trying to hack into it.

“We both know your work hasn’t been about cloning humans’ bodies for a long time Harold,” she begins slowly. “Your idea of cloning someone’s actual consciousness, using advanced AI as a platform to upload onto… of not being bound to the weak flesh we happened to be born into is quite... promising.”

The way she says it, the cheshire grin that pulls across her face, makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It shouldn’t, but it does.

“I shudder to think what kind of perverted theme park Nathan or anyone else could make with that technology,” she adds wryly, before settling back into seriousness. “But you? You understand this is our inevitable. The next step in human evolution. You understand the importance of making sure whoever shapes what comes next does so carefully.”

“The world needs you,” she continues. “You’re the only one to trust to do it right. And if we can’t get you out of here alive, someone else will be in charge of humanity’s future instead. ” She turns slightly back towards the table, marker posed in hand adding quietly. “So forget what how you feel about me. How would you feel about that?” 

He’s still not sure whether to be honored or terrified (probably both). He decides on neither though, moving closer and focusing squarely on the beginnings of a plan she’s writing on the table instead. “What did you have in mind? About getting us out of here?”

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Visitor Center, Sector 1, Jurassic Park] _

 

Shaw and Kids see Reese as they crest the hill, their destination finally in sight. He is limping out on the steps of the building, looking as worse for the wear as Shaw feels but that doesn’t stop him from hobbling as fast as possible to scoop them all up in a bone crushing hug. 

“Alright, alright,” Shaw says, protest half hearted. She is undeniably happy to see him.

Happier still to see the barely-touched buffet when they make their way inside. Gen has a fork in each hand and is already stabbing at the pasta salad by the time Shaw gets to the table. Shaw rips two turkey leg off, hands one to reese. “Kids, eat stuff, I have to talk with John for a moment.”

Both girls nod abscently, mouths full and eyes on the next bite, as Shaw tugs Reese a few meters away out of earshot. 

“What’s the plan?” she says, ripping into the turkey leg, eyes unwittingly still drifting towards where the kids sit.

“Harold had me reset the breaker so we’d have power. All that’s left is to reboot the system in the Control Room and we’ll have the rest: phones, locks, all of it.”

“Alright then. Let’s grab stuff and go. I don’t want to risk another mo-”

She stops dead, eyeline tracking how both children’s movements have frozen, mid bite. They’re staring at a thick plastic sheet hanging over a still-in-progress section of the room.

No.

They’re starting at the silhouetted shape behind it. A very familiar shape to Shaw and the last one she wants to see right now. 

Velociraptor.

“Shit.”

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Visitor Center, Sector 1, Jurassic Park] _

 

This was not the weekend she’d imagined.

The thought has played on repeat in Claire’s mind for the past twelve hours like a scratched CD stuck on fear. 

She sprints down the hall, dragging Gen by the hand behind her as the four of them make a mad dash for the Control Room. She doesn't turn to check where the raptor is, figuring it superfluous information that would only serve to slow down processing speed. 

They skid into the Control room, Shaw slamming the door behind them, bracing herself against it. “Turn this shit back on and let’s get the hell out of here.” 

John limps straight to the computer terminal, though upon arriving seems stuck as to where to begin when the cursor blinks on the blank screen. 

Meanwhile, Dr. Shaw realizes the door hasn’t clicked, examining closer seeing that the mechanism isn’t working. “The door locks,” she mumbles to herself, then to Dr. Reese, “Get the fucking door lo-” her eyes trace up, and she meets those of the raptor on the other side of the door’s glass window. “Fuck.” 

The raptor pushes into the door, moving her back a foot before slamming it closed again. “John!” Shaw barks, now bracing the door with her whole body but the raptor outweighs her by a few hundred pounds. 

John abandons the computer and joins her, his gun clattering to the ground as he does. 

Claire stares at the scene, dazed until Gen grabs her shoulders, shaking her sister back to reality. “CLAIRE! The computer! You need to do something!” Gen is in her face, breaking the spell and bringing Claire back once more. She stands and as she arrives at the computer's station, the familiarity to screen in enough to push back the spell of terror. 

“It’s a Unix system,” she says, in awe. “I know this.” Her fingers slide onto the keyboard and she lets muscle memory take hold . “You can access the whole park from here. “ she mumbles.

“Can you get it back online!?” 

“Yeah, yeah, let me just…” her fingers fly, fast but clumsily over the keys as she navigates.

Behind them, Dr. Shaw and Dr. Reese fight a losing battle. The raptor has managed to get it’s fingers between the door, and it’s only a matter of time. “Get the gun!” Shaw growls. John tries to reach it with his foot but as he stretches, weight shifts, giving the raptor more leverage. He moves back into the door “I can’t!”

“Claire, come on!’ Gen urges, frozen between the two scenes.

“Almost there,” Claire’s eyes are wide and unblinking at the screen, mouth parted in concentration. Her cursor floats through the map as fast as it can, opening and resetting.

“FU-CK!” Shaw curses, pressing all she has against the animal as it gets its snout part way in. “CLAIRE!”

“Got it in 3-2-1-” Claire counts down and Shaw meets Reese’s eyes. They nod and simultaneously heave against the door, shoving the animal just far enough for the door to click closed. 

The animal gives an angry shriek and slams against the metal, but it holds. 

Claire spins in her chair, accomplishment on her face. “I did it.”

Dr. Shaw smirks, chest still heaving from exertion, and leverages herself against the wall to get up. John stands as well, taking long but suffering strides to the phone on the wall. “What else were you able to boot up?”

“Everything. Phones, maps, fences, sensors.”

“Nice work kid,” Shaw says and the genuine grin on the doctor’s face makes Claire’s insides light up.

Across the room, John picks up the phone, dials, and waits a moment. “Harold,” John starts, smile spreading as well. “The phones are working.” 

Gen slips her hand into Claire’s, squeezing one finger at a time. It’s something they used to do years ago, when they were first adopted and things were so uncertain. It was comforting then, and to have her sister do it now, makes Claire feel a sense of connection stronger than she’s felt in years. 

The impact against the glass takes them all by surprise. 

John drops the phone, let’s it swing by its cord as he mounts the riffle to his shoulder.

“It’s coming through the glass!” Shaw yells, scooping both children behind her protectively as she backs them up towards the far corner.  John stands in front, sight trained on the Raptor as it backs up and hurls itself into the plate glass at the front of the room. 

“The ladder!” Gen yelps, the 10 foot ladder just to the side and leading up into the crawl space between the drop ceiling. 

Shaw nods, “Let’s go,” and the group sprints towards it, ascending into the small space. The glass breaks, two shots ring out and Claire’s mind skips and skips and skips.

This really is not the weekend she imagined.

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Safety Bunker, Visitor Center, Jurassic Park] _

 

Finch drops the phone and looks at Root. “We need to do something!” 

She sits up, gingerly, unable to keep the wince away. “Agreed. Any ideas?” 

Before he can respond, there’s a banging at the door to the shelter. Harold instinctively moves in front of Root, before he can even process it.

The banging persists, and then it’s quiet. Root takes the opportunity to slide out from behind Harold.

“Root,” he says, looking at the woman. He’s not sure what more to say, but she nods as if she understands all the same.

“Harold.”

Both stand shoulder to shoulder to face their fate, as the door slowly creaks open. 

 

*_*_*

 

_ [Visitor Center Lobby, Sector 1, Jurassic Park] _

 

Shaw and John help the kids climb down out of the air duct and onto scaffolding platform. It’s the one that stands next to the huge T-Rex skeleton in the Visitor Center lobby.

“The door, we can get to the bunker from there!” John says as they continue down to the second platform, then the third. 

That’s when Claire screams, and the group turns to look at what she sees.

It’s a Raptor, standing to the side by the second floor railing, now at eye level with them. It's much too far to jump to the lobby floor, so Shaw climbs gingerly onto the adjacent skeleton. “Kids. Come on!”

Gen and Claire don’t hesitate, Shaw helping them both on. John backs up, keeping his body between the Raptor and the kids, before climbing onto the enormous skeleton as well.

They climb down as fast as they can, John onto the tail, Claire moving to the front.  Shaw lands on the main body in the middle with Gen. And the raptor watches them.

Up in the ceiling, the skeleton's anchor bolts groan in the plaster, starting to pull free. But for now, they hold.

Until the Raptor flies out, landing on the back of the middle section. 

There’s a deafening CRACK, the spine of the sekaton breaking, and suddenly the structure breaks, sections spinning in all different directions on their individual ceiling cables. 

Shaw and Gen twirl on the middle section and Gen begins to slide down. Shaw tires to grab her but Gen loses her grip and falls to the ground right underneath the swinging, large middle section of the dinosaur skeleton.

Meanwhile, Claire spins on the front section. She slips and tries to keep from falling as she hangs by her legs.

That’s the point at which the anchor bolts in the ceiling rip free, zinging past them like bullets. The entire skeleton collapses like a house of cards sending John to the ground. He covers himself with his arms, trying to protect his head from the shower of falling objects. 

Claire falls next, almost smashing into John and when the middle section collapses as well, it sends Shaw and the Raptor hard to the ground in a cascade of splintering bone. 

The Raptor lands on its back a few yards away and staggers for a moment, the wind knocked out of it, and Shaw takes the opportunity to scramble to Gen, pulling her towards John and Claire in the center of the room.

That’s when she notices the shadows of a second raptor, behind some of the construction plastic on the opposite side of the room. 

Shaw shifts, trying to keep herself between the newcomer and her friends. The raptor comes out from under the plastic and looks around. They back away from the raptor, approaching from the left side.  They back up towards a bit towards the door, no sudden movements though.

“Oh god-” Claire wheezes as a third Raptor emerges from the shadows to join the first.

They’re surrounded. Three raptors edge in slowly from all sides, Shaw and John facing out with the kids sandwiched behind each of them. The big one facing Shaw hisses menacingly. 

“Any ideas Shaw?” John says quietly, as both children’s panicked breathing takes on a desperate edge.

“Not unless you’ve got a distraction big enough to occupy all three,” she says back and those might be her last words, she thinks, as the raptor lunges right for her.

It doesn’t make its target though, because out of nowhere the T-Rex bursts in, snapping it straight out of the air. 

The raptor lets out a horrendous scream as the Rex shakes it like a dog with a toy. The second raptor turns from the humans and lunges at the Rex's side, leaping twelve feet into the air and ripping the Rex's flesh as it comes down, slashing it open with its six-inch claw. The Rex bellows in pain, and turns on the raptor, eyes raging. 

“Big enough distraction! Let’s go!” Shaw says, seeing their opening. The group makes a dash for the door of the Visitor Center, trying to skirt the battle royal raging behind them.

They’re almost there when the third raptor leaps and lands between them and the exit. Shaw quickly shoves John and the kids behind her for protection as the animal stalks a few steps closer. 

The Raptor stares right at Shaw, and she can see what Carter meant by being able to ‘see them thinking’. It’s lip curls and she can guess that it’s simply deciding how best to eviscerate her and that pisses. her. off. 

It looks at her, right in her eyes and Shaw glares back unblinking. It roars and Shaw, possessed by something she can’t name, roars back, at no point tearing her eyes away. A slow smile creeps onto her face because if this is the end, she’s not giving it the satisfaction of defeat. 

She used to imagine this as a child. Imagine herself in the time of dinosaurs, fending for herself. In those scenarios she usually had a spear, some sort of self-fashioned weapon. In those scenarios, she was alone. 

Now though, she is anything but alone. Part of her registers John and the kids, behind them the fight between Rex and Raptor still in progress, but she doesn't look away. She continues to stare it down, unblinking, until the exact moment it decides to pounce.

Like the raptor before though, it doesn’t make it’s target either. Mid-air, it’s head seems to explode, blood and brains everywhere and it’s only after its body hits the ground does Shaw register the gunshot that dropped it. 

The source of the shot appears in the doorway, a heavy set man with curly hair, holding what looks like an honest to god Uzi. 

“Fusco,” He says by way of introduction. “Hurry up! Get the kids!” 

That’s all any of them need. The group of five run down the stairs. There a gas Jeep awaits, Finch in the passenger seat, Root in the trunk. 

“I’m driving,” Shaw says as they approach. No one seems to disagree. Finch hugs both children quickly as they hop in the back seat, backing out of the way so John can join them in the back as well. Fusco hops in the trunk area with Root, gun still up and ready.

“Finch, hate to tell you this,” Shaw says, sliding into the driver’s seat. “But I’ve decided not to endorse your park.”

“So have I,” he says grimly. 

She floors the gas and doesn’t look back when the T-Rex gives one last bone-rattling roar from inside the building as they speed away.

“Head to the airfield, Dr. Shaw,” Harold says, knuckles white around the Jeep’s rumble handle. “Ms. Gr- Root- and I were able to contact the mainland. A helicopter should be waiting.” 

“Good,” Shaw says. 

“Is Dad meeting us there?” Gen asks, leaning forward to address Harold.

Glancing in her rearview mirror, she can see John wince, and both girls cry and cling to him as Harold explains how their father died a hero, saving all of them. 

They make it to the helicopter without further incident and as lifts off, and Shaw stares out the window at the jungle below. It’s strange really. She’s spent the vast majority of her life wishing she could spend it in the past, imagining herself in a prehistoric world like this, dwarfed by animals evolutionarily unsullied by humans.

It had always seemed ideal, living among those giants that wouldn’t even notice her existence, rather than the people that seemed to always find error in hers. 

John and Harold sit next to each other, bracketed by Gen and Claire respectively. Shaw catches his eye and he gives a solemn nod, a hint of something hopeful behind it. She could see this for him, a future looking something like this, and she can’t help but grin because for the first time since she’s known him it looks like he could see a future for himself as well.  

Root is sitting next to her, her body touching the entire left side of Shaw’s, but her attention is focused on trading remarks with Lionel- who’s sense of humor and panache for disparaging nicknames is already endearing him to Shaw. 

Shaw finds herself  surrounded by humans that she doesn’t mind as much. People that make sense, and understand her enough to think she might too.

She takes a final look back at the island, at the world of the past she has invested most of her life wishing to be part of. But looking around the cabin, for the first time she sees a world in the present she wouldn’t mind being a part of. For the first time, she thinks there are things she cares about here too.

And that’s enough.

 

*_*_*_*_*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This was a challenge to write length-wise, but a ton of fun. Drop me a line on tumblr (spicycheeser) if you ever want to talk POI, or my gazillion other headcanons about this AU too. :) Thanks again and hope you enjoyed it!


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